The Afterlife and Times of Myrtle Potter
by PerfesserN
Summary: Myrtle becomes a casualty of war, she loses her afterlife and must live again. Just one small problem, Hermione will be wanting her body back!
1. Chapter 1: Begining & the Begining of th

Chapter 1: Beginning and the Beginning of the End

Olive Hornby sat at the Ravenclaw table and said in a voice pitched loud enough to carry to the nearby Hufflepuff table, "I saw Frisbee making goo-goo eyes at Farkas in divination today, and you know she can do it really well, after all she has _four_ of them!"

Hornby's little clique erupted in the usual titters as Olive continued the needling that she had been inflicting on the mousy Frisbee since first year. Now in the fall of their fifth year the Alpha bitch of Ravenclaw had, if anything, become even more vicious. There was just something about the Frisbee girl that grated her. Possibly it was her ill fitting clothes, hand me down or donated robes. Maybe it was her pale, pimply skin. Perhaps it was her squeaky voice, her mousy brown hair, the fact that the four-eyed freak's marks were always just ahead of her own in class, especially divination. Who cares why? It just made Olive feel justly superior whenever she put the Hufflepuff in her place.

"Hey, leave off her Hornby; don't you have something better to do than to pick on your classmate?"

Olive Hornby spun to give Frisbee's protector a piece of her mind and nearly bit her tongue when she saw who it was, "um, you know Tom, just harmless fun! Frisbee knows we're just having her on, don't you Myrtle?"

The look Olive gave her Hufflepuff victim was full of promise, 'if you think I'm on your case now, just you wait and see what happens if you don't agree with me!'

Myrtle gulped and simply nodded, causing her glasses to slide half-way down her nose.

Tom Riddle strode off to the Slytherin table where he was attended by his 'court,' the house-mates that gravitated toward him whenever he seemed to have a moment to settle in one place, which, outside of the classroom wasn't very often.

"He's so dreamy!" Olive enthused.

"He's a poof!" one of the male Ravenclaws sniggered, "he doesn't like girls!"

"So _you_ say!" she snapped.

"I'm just sayin,' you never see him with a girl, always with a bunch of blokes; I tell you he's seekin' for the other team!"

"Just because he's a boy, no, a young man who cares about his personal appearance and is serious about his studies doesn't mean he's a faggot!"

"Well, appearances are . . ."

"Just shut it you!" and with that Olive let the boy know that the conversation was ended. She turned to the sycophant on her left and whispered, "If he _is_ bent, I'll bet I can straighten him out!"

This elicited a giggle from her hanger-on and a snort from Myrtle Frisbee.

'That's it' Hornby thought, 'time to put that bespectacled bint in her place.'

"I know why you're so good at divination, Frisbee; your glasses are so thick you can see into the future!"

It was bad enough when the Ravenclaw bitches tittered at this but even worse when some of her fellow Puffs started laughing along.

Olive was on a roll; she had an audience and knew how to work a room.

"When you look at a map, do you see people waving?"

She pantomimed looking up and waving while squeaking out "hi Frisbee!"

"Hey Frisbee," she asked in mock concern, "how do you find your glasses without your glasses?"

Then her smile turned particularly vicious.

"I know how your minders back at the orphanage punish you; they take away your glasses and then rearrange the furniture!"

By this time three tables were in an uproar but to be fair the Hufflepuff table was booing Hornby's over the top hurtful comments, but that just added to the chaos. To Myrtle it seemed as though the whole school was laughing at her and she'd had enough. She jumped up and screamed "You miserable loathsome evil _cow_!" at Olive, who managed to look as though her feelings were hurt as the distraught Frisbee ran out of the great hall down the corridor and up the stairs to the second floor girls bathroom.

Hornby called after her "I'm sorry Frisbee, oh wait, actually, I'm not!" then dissolved into paroxysms of laughter herself.

She didn't even see the handsome Slytherin prefect get up and leave.

'What if that silly little girl stumbles on my secret?' he thought to himself, not that he cared for the Frisbee girl at all, just the _appearance_ of caring was what he was after. If he could talk her down it would improve his standing within the ranks of the Puffs, the one house where he hadn't garnered any followers.

Myrtle ran into the girl's bathroom and didn't even notice the displaced sink; or the great gaping hole in the floor that she passed on her way to the second stall from the right. She just slammed the door and wailed at the unfairness of it all. No one liked her, no one had come to her defense, except for that Slytherin Prefect, but then again he was just doing his job.

Tom rapped gently on the girl's bathroom door and said in a low voice, "hello?"

Myrtle was sobbing and bemoaning her circumstances and didn't hear Tom enter the bathroom. He saw the entrance to the chamber had been left open and swore, then he began to call in parseltongue ssservant of the founder, where are you?

I am hungry again, you promisssed me more food, there isss much food here

Yesss, there isss, but you cannot feed here, the othersss will find you and will try to hurt you

Myrtle heard none of this of course, just hissing and a few odd vowel sounds, a sort of 'made up' language. More important, it was a boy's voice! Boys were not allowed in girls bathrooms for any reason. She steeled herself for a confrontation; she was going to give someone what for! The angry teen jerked the latch on the cubicle door and slammed the wooden door open.

The sound made both Riddle and the dirty great basilisk turn to look at the source; Myrtle took a deep breath to begin haranguing the trespasser – and died. The gaze of the basilisk had done its deadly work.

Tom Marvolo Riddle hadn't seen death, human death, until that moment; he wondered what the fuss was all about. One minute you're walking and talking and breathing and the next minute you're not. It was no different than say, snuffing out a candle really. He stooped down on one knee to look at the basilisk's handiwork, no scars, no expression of shock or anger or fear, just mild surprise as if to say 'oh!'

Tom caught a whiff of something foul as he inspected the body; he saw water or something soaking the girl's skirt and remembered hearing somewhere that when people died their bladders and bowels often released their contents. The dead had no dignity to lose.

I can eat thisss one? the serpent pleaded.

No! Go back to the chamber, I will bring a goat after a while, now go, quickly!

The monster nosed Myrtle's still warm body and then reluctantly turned back to the opening of the chamber before disappearing down the chute.

Riddle intoned clossse and the sink slid back into place, recovering the hole. His logical mind went through the steps, he controlled the basilisk, beyond any reasonable doubt, the basilisk had killed the Frisbee girl; therefore he had just killed the girl. He had murdered. He looked at Myrtle and pulled the pocket diary from his robes.

"I wonder if it'll really work?" he mused, then began the dark spell that his forbidden research indicated would result in the preservation of a fraction of his soul.

Nearly an hour later a slightly paler, thinner Tom Riddle looked with even less regard at his dead schoolmate. He drug and pushed the body back into the cubicle she had come out of and placed it on the toilet. Sooner or later someone would find the body, maybe they would think she died of natural causes and that would be the end of it. He could only hope.

As much as Riddle had studied the dark arts, he should have known the pall of black magic would be all over the body and whoever found her would probably recognize the stigma of such a dark curse.

Headmaster Dippett awoke early the next morning to the sound of frantic hammering at his door, Alyson Munroe, head of Hufflepuff house was frantic.

"Miss Frisbee's bed hasn't been slept in and no one has seen her since dinner last night!"

"Calm yourself Professor Munroe; I'm sure Miss Frisbee will be found curled up on a couch somewhere ere long. Come, let us begin the search."

The potion's professor, Sylvia St. James, found her in short order and immediately sealed off the area.

"We need the DMLE here, now!" she told the headmaster in a quivering voice, "I think she was murdered."

Dippett was aghast, "murdered? Isn't that a rather hasty judgment Professor?"

"Don't take my word for it headmaster, go and stand in that room yourself, you can feel the dark magic there!"

He did, and he had to agree as soon as he entered the bathroom. There was something evil about the feel of the place. As he was contemplating this two aurors, Smith and Jones, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement walked in.

"Whoa" Smith exclaimed, "d'you feel that?"

The man's partner, a thick waisted lady auror in her late thirties with raven locks nodded in agreement.

"We need a team here" he looked at the distraught professor, "you did well to call us, there's a very dark magic signature here, it indicates deliberate murder and then something, I haven't felt anything like it before, but I think the intent was to profit somehow from the murder." He began to talk quietly to his partner after saying this, as though he had already said too much.

"Someone or something killed this girl, and then drug her into the cubicle, see the smear marks on the floor?"

Dippett nodded and asked, "what made these marks?"

"I'll tell you if you ask again, headmaster," the lady auror said, "but I don't think you really want to know."

"I'll get out of your way and let you do your jobs then" the old and very tired Professor said, and left.

Smith, the on-site auror in charge mused aloud "if the girl had just been left on the floor where she fell it could have been some kind of accident, but someone felt the need to hide the body, that means intent, that means someone wanted to not be caught. Any footprints in the effluence that you can detect?"

The lady just shook her head 'no.'

The magical autopsy revealed the girl died of some kind of medusoid curse, one that required her to look at her assailant or the cursed object or the caster of the deadly curse. Whatever it was it entered the victim through the eyes and then just shut down all bodily functions, heartbeat, breathing, seeing, hearing, thinking – all stopped in the proverbial wink.

Several curses could have been cast, all very dark, all very illegal. Some magical creatures could have the same effect. Enchanted cobras and some types of acromantulae could freeze their victims with a gaze, or simply kill them outright. The word went out, discretely of course, look for someone with exotic magical pets.

Tom Riddle in the performance of his prefect duties overheard the investigating team and he nearly jumped for joy – this was an out, if only he could find someone dumb enough to have dangerous animals on campus. Someone thick enough to have something hidden away. He grinned and evil grin; it was almost too easy – pin it on that brainless oaf Hagrid!

Dippett, in his last official act as Hogwart's headmaster ordered the award to be given to Tom Marvolo Riddle in front of the whole school, he then handed the keys of his office over to his deputy headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and discretely left the school rather than face the hoard of reporters in the Great Hall.

Three days later Myrtle awoke with a start, she was still sitting on the toilet in the second cubicle of the girl's bathroom. She hurried out and down the stairs to see if anyone was still in the great hall, maybe one of her roommates would have picked up her books, but she had to make sure.

When she arrived in the great hall it was to see the prefect, Tom Riddle receiving a plaque on which was inscribed "Special Award for Services to the School." He gave a brief, heartfelt speech "I only wish I could have found the monster before it took our classmate from us, I did nothing, really, that anyone else wouldn't have done, but for her sake and in her name I accept this award." Then he raised his goblet and said "To Myrtle Frisbee."

A very sober and somber student body mumbled "Myrtle Frisbee."

Myrtle gasped and two Hufflepuff girls screamed.

ooo000ooo

Three friends, three best friends stood on the ramparts of the ancient castle that was Hogwart's. All three were scanning the edge of the forbidden forest waiting for the inevitable attack.

"What d'you reckon Harry?"

"Inferi, dementors, giants, maybe some trolls and a whole lot of death eaters."

Ron Weasley nodded grimly and took a moment to clasp Hermione's hand. His bushy haired fiancé squeezed back and grinned sheepishly, "when this is over" she started to say, but was cut off as the tall redhead gathered her into a fierce hug.

Harry was glad his friends had each other, and he was equally glad that Ginny was somewhere else, somewhere unplottable, safe and sound. He would have liked to have seen her just one more time though; he needed to tell her that . . ."

"Incoming!" a uniformed auror pointed toward the sun which was being obscured by – _something_; several somethings in fact.

Hundreds of round missiles were raining down on the ramparts and walls, the defenders threw up shields and the projectiles were deflected to the courtyard behind them. Those on the ground began to scream as the nature of the objects became clear.

Heads, hundreds of heads, fell to the grass, bounced and rolled coming to rest face up. The faces were magically preserved so that the people inside the castle could see and recognize members of their families, friends, older brothers and sisters and even those that had been too young to attend school. Magical Britain had been decimated by the forces of the dark lord.

A sonorous enhanced voice, cold, sibilant, reptilian called from the forest.

"You in the castle, hear me! Those who would join me do so now, open the gates and you shall live, you and all your families, resist me and die; all of you unto the last of your generations!"

ooo000ooo

"For the last time child, it is forbidden for us to interfere in the lives of the living!" The bloody baron was blue faced with rage as the youngest of the Hogwart's ghosts was again insisting that they do something to help.

"But we can help, we can't be killed! We can carry messages, spy on the enemy, let our side know the enemy's plans!"

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington placed a hand on the young spirit's shoulder, "we can't be killed but we can be destroyed, a dementor would find you a particularly tasty morsel and then there would be nothing left of the soul of Myrtle Frisbee."

"So we just wait here for that murderer to come for us, is that it?" Myrtle faced the other ghosts. "What kind of existence will we have if Voldemort wins? Hogwart's will become a school of the darkest of magics, and what will become of us? Will we be exorcised or simply evicted by evil spirits? Will our souls become dark and corrupted? If I have a choice I say we fight for our afterlives as our defenders are fighting for their lives and the lives of their loved ones!"

The Grey Lady rose to her full height and said, "There are worse things than death, Sir Nicholas, even for ones such as us."

The tall ghost adjusted his ruffle and asked "What do you mean, milady?"

"Remorse, guilt, regret – if we do nothing, just wait here the forces of light magic may yet prevail, but if they don't we'll have the rest of our very long 'lives' to regret that we could have done something and chose not to."

The Grey Lady drifted to Myrtle and said, "I for one will stand with you child."

The knighted ghost leveled his gaze at the rest of the castle ghosts, "Well I certainly will not be made a coward by my actions, or lack thereof. Baron?"

The Bloody Baron shook himself and groaned, "Oh hell and damnation; no one wants to die forever!"

That was the turning point, the castle ghosts all agreed to do what they could to help the remaining forces of light.


	2. Chapter 2: The Haunting and the Defender

Chapter 2: The Haunting and the Defenders

Ghosts in the halls of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were common, you could hardly find a room anywhere that didn't get the occasional visit from one of the ectoplasmic echoes of the 'previously breathing.'

It's an entirely different matter to see one's classmate, one who was being eulogized at that very moment, suddenly appear at your elbow.

The two screaming Hufflepuffs startled Myrtle, who recoiled in surprise and found to her horror the she was suddenly floating just above her classmate's heads. Two of the Slytherin boys sniggered as they could see clearly up Myrtle's skirt. The Fat Friar of Hufflepuff House put a comforting arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the ground.

"I know you are confused child, come with me and I will explain it to you."

"Why would I go anywhere with a ghost, begging your pardon Brother, why not stay in the hall with my classmates?"

"Please humor an old ghost?"

Just then she realized that the ectoplasm that was the Friar's arm felt solid against her shoulders, she glanced down at her own hand and saw that she could see through it, she was translucent.

As the realization hit her she let out a moan, long and mournful and someone said, quietly to a nearby friend, "Myrtle's Moaning," and the friend who hadn't heard clearly asked "did y'say Moaning Myrtle?"

Unfortunately, that statement, meant only as a request for clarification, caught on like wildfire. In the weeks to come the moniker 'Moaning Myrtle' would stick. Eventually everyone would simply forget that she ever had a last name.

The Friar, Brother Antonio Domingo, led Myrtle into the dungeons, not bothering to open doors as they went, sometimes not bothering with doors at all, just passing through walls as they descended.

"We only pass through walls when we need to be somewhere in a hurry child," the friar explained as they descended, "normally we like to at least pretend we are walking down corridors or sitting at tables, reading or writing."

Finally they passed into a large hall, obviously meant to be a feasting hall, but long forgotten as it was in the bowels of the castle. Inside the hall she saw just over two dozen ghosts, some of whom she recognized, Nearly Headless Nick for one, The Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady as well.

A very somber Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington extended both his hands and very respectfully said, "Welcome to Hogwarts dear spirit of the recently departed, I wish I could say that I'm happy to see you but truth is, I'm not. None of us are. We are so sorry for your loss."

"I _am_ dead, aren't I?" Myrtle asked.

"I'm afraid so child" the Grey Lady said, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, "do you remember anything about the circumstances of your passing?"

Myrtle thought for a moment, "I'm not sure milady, I remember I was upset, crying and then there was this voice, a boy's voice saying something in gibberish, and I got angry at the boy and wanted to tell him to go away and, and, and . . . I woke up in the same place where I think I died."

"Child," the Friar offered, "is there some unfinished business you need to take care of, some task that must be performed that can only be done by you? Is there someone you have to say goodbye to?"

"I don't know, I don't think so, why?"

"It's unusual for one so young to remain grounded, Earth bound if you will. Most of us were required to stay on Earth because of some obligation, family to look after, loved ones to say goodbye to, that sort of thing."

"And some" began the Bloody Baron, "are just not yet ready to go over to the other side!"

"Child," the Grey Lady began, "has someone captured your heart?"

"Well, there is this boy I like, sorta, I was thinking of him just now . . ."

"Perhaps you need to tell him goodbye before moving on?"

"No" she admitted dejectedly, "he doesn't know I exist."

"Perhaps you need to solve your own murder?" Sir Nicholas offered.

"Was I murdered? I don't know. All I remember is standing just outside a cubicle and seeing a pair of great big, yellow eyes."

"Where was this?"

"Second floor, loo."

"Anything else?"

"There was a boy's voice . . . but he was just talking nonsense, not even words . . ."

"You had a boy in the bathroom?"

"No, no, nothing like that" she looked down, "never anything like that, I've never even been kissed . . ."

"No boyfriends?" the Grey Lady asked, sympathetically.

Myrtle shook her head no.

"Family?"

The girl sniffed and stammered out "orph, orphan."

"Any friends at all?"

Myrtle sobbed, and the Grey Lady gathered her into a hug, "poor lonely spirit, we are your family now; you don't have to be alone ever again, unless that is your choice."

The little ghost girl sobbed into the lady's hair, silver tears tracking down her face.

After what seemed like an age – ghosts, it seems are very patient, they have after all, all the time in the world – Myrtle had cried herself out.

"Let's see where you were, um, made the dear departed" Sir Nicholas offered as a suggestion.

"Can someone help me up to the second floor please; I'm not sure how to move through closed doors and such."

"Of course child, more than happy to assist a young lady!" the ghost knight struck a gallant leg and bowed – causing his head to become unhinged, and flop off to one side.

"Drat" he groused, pushing his head back into place, "sorry."

If a ghost could be said to look green, Myrtle would have, but she plowed on "not at all Sir Nicholas."

A small knot of ghosts guided Myrtle all over the castle, giving 'ghosting' lessons along the way.

"Once you know your way around you'll be able to just imagine yourself in a place and will simply appear there. A sort of spectral apparation if you will" the friar was explaining. "And walls and doors are purely advisory in nature!" he exclaimed popping into and out of the stone walls as he did so.

After a long time, maybe night had fallen, maybe it was already the next day, time had little meaning in her new existence, they found themselves floating in the corridor just outside the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

Myrtle started to go in when Sir Nicholas placed a hand on her arm, "wait" he suggested.

The Grey Lady looked back to Nicholas, "you feel it too?"

"_I_ certainly do" the friar interjected.

"What?" Myrtle asked.

"Very dark magic, something unspeakably evil is in there!"

"Why don't I feel it?"

"Perhaps because you have been touched by it you are immune, who knows? But I honestly believe that even ones such as ourselves would be right to fear whatever is or was in that room!"

"I'll just pop in and have a look around then shall I?" the girl asked.

"Hurry back if you see anything child, some magics can hurt us even if we're not, um, of the breathing persuasion" the friar warned.

She stepped quickly through the wall, ready to retreat at any sign of danger, but saw nothing.

She stuck her head through the door and said "all clear."

The other spirits followed her into the room and investigated all the corners, upper and lower for any signs of lurking evil, but couldn't find it. The feeling was there nonetheless.

"Perhaps you'd like to lodge with me?" the Grey Lady offered, "I have a lovely corner in the Ravenclaw common room and you'd be most welcome.

Myrtle's eyes went suddenly dark, "another time perhaps, milady, right now I don't want to be anywhere near a Ravenclaw!"

"Oh dear, have I offended?"

Myrtle shook herself trying to rid herself of her anger, "no, oh no milady, not you, but some of the students in your house have been very mean to me!"

"Do tell."

"It was Olive Hornby who drove me away from the great hall when I ran, distraught into this bathroom. In a way, it's her fault that I died!"

The other ghosts cringed at this, the Fat Friar took it upon himself to explain to the new ghost that it was very bad manners to use the words 'death' or 'died' and it was never done in polite ghost company.

"Is that why I'm still here, brother? Am I supposed to haunt those who taunted me in life?"

"It's not likely child," the friar responded, "some spirits are vengeful, but those are usually exorcised, perhaps if you find your quiet place" he tapped his own chest in the vicinity of his ghostly heart, "your place of peace, then you may find why you're still here on this plane."

The other ghosts turned to leave but Myrtle said "I think I'll just stay here for a bit, it feels like, I dunno, my place somehow."

The other spirits nodded in understanding and made their farewells.

Myrtle floated around the bathroom, not a bad place, really. Lots of room, lots of places to perch – she especially liked the high stained glass window up near the rafters.

She also found she could flow into the pipes and just rest there in the 'u' bend. She also discovered to her discomfiture that if anyone drained water out of a sink that she was attached to then she would be washed out of the castle into the lake. The first time that happened she found herself eye-to-eye with the giant squid. That was also the first time she apparated, naturally she found herself back in 'her' bathroom.

Myrtle found herself more often than not in her bathroom, not that she was antisocial, she got on well with all the other ghosts, even Peeves the Poltergeist was nicer to her than he had ever been when she was alive.

"Moaning Myrtle is one of us now, so I say she has Peeves' protection!"

Winter gave way to spring and life, or rather afterlife settled into something of a comfortable pattern. Even some of the students were at least waving to her when they saw her. And Nicholas Farkas, the boy she had been making 'goo-goo eyes' at during the previous fall placed a lovely lily in the knave beside her bathroom door.

"Do you really want to be in here?" a girl's voice asked, "isn't this where Frisbee snuffed it?"

"This is as good a place as any" came another girl's reply, "and she's dead and gone."

"Dead, yeah, but not exactly gone; don'cha know she haunts this bathroom?"

"Yeah, well," Olive said as she stuck a fag in her mouth and touched the end of her wand to it, lighting it, "what's she gonna do, _moan_ me to death?"

"Don'cha know you're not s'posed to talk bad about the dead?"

"Yeah, well that little bint will be about as scary as a ghost as she was in life!"

Myrtle learned that day that she could be a truly terrifying sight, rising from the stone floor, a look of righteous fury on her translucent face.

Olive learned that she could urinate while standing, with her pants still on.

"Hornby!" Myrtle screamed, and all the blood drained from the live girl's face as she wet herself, her legs feeling like rubber. Her friend was out the door like a shot, leaving Olive to face the angry ghost alone.

"It's not enough that you tormented me while I was alive, you have the gall to come into _my_ bathroom stinking it up with your fags and then insult my memory?"

"Frisby? Y'know I din't mean anything, right? You're not goin' to do anything to me now or anything are you?" The once haughty Ravenclaw was now kneeling in a puddle of her own making.

"You mean like, oh I dunno, _haunt_ you?" Myrtle grinned an inhumanly wide grin, "what a wonderful idea!"

For the remaining two months of school Olive Hornby lived in her own little self imposed hell, if she looked in a mirror she saw Myrtle's face leering back at her. When she tried to sleep the ghost would hum an annoying little song just loud enough to steal her sleep, what the hell were "mare's – e – dotes" anyway? When she did finally get to sleep, and what ever sleep she got was never enough, she dreaded waking up because she knew she would be nose-to-nose with the ghost when she opened her eyes in the morning. The first time that happened she scrambled out of bed so quickly that she fell and bruised her bum.

The worst part was, she couldn't convince anyone that she was being haunted, every time she tried to get anyone else to see the ghost, Myrtle wasn't there. People started avoiding the paranoid Hornby girl. What _was_ obvious was that she wasn't sleeping, evidenced by the dark circles under her eyes and she was losing weight, rapidly. Her clothes hung off her frame.

She barely got four O.W.L.s having fallen asleep during the written portions of her tests, for once Myrtle let her sleep. And she was the first one packed, sitting on her trunk before the sun rose on the day of the leaving feast. She was chuckling maniacally to herself, and in an eerie voice was singing in a whisper, "I'll be gone and she'll be here, she can't follow me home."

"My dear Olive, whatever gave you the idea that I can't follow you anywhere?"

"You! You have to stay here, them's the rules ain't they? You gotta stay where you died!"

"Oh Olive, don't you know I can go wherever water flows? So unless you live somewhere where there's no water for drinking or bathing . . ." she let the concept sink in.

"What do you want from me?" she screeched, waking her roommates in the process. They all scrambled out of the room as if they'd seen a ghost, which they hadn't, Myrtle was very good at not being seen when she wanted to.

"What I want is simple, I want justice. You were my personal tormentor for five years, ever since we first got to Hogwart's and you pushed me out of the bloody boat! What was that about anyway? I want five years from you in return or. . ."

Olive looked at her tormentor, daring to hope for an out.

". . .or I want an apology for the way you've treated me all these years."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I was a prat, I was a git, I was a bitch! I'll be whatever you say I was but leave me alone!"

"Sorry, not good enough. My humiliations were public, more often than not in the great hall. You want to be shot of me? I need an apology, in the great hall. When I get it I'll be done with you. Today would be good, because you're not going to see the great hall for the better part of three months after today and you'll be seeing a _lot_ of me in the meantime!"

ooo000ooo

"Neville!" Harry shouted to the courtyard, "take two medics and look at all of the faces, once you've seen them all banish them!"

Neville Longbottom was pale but determined, he had chosen to become one of the first combat medics in Dumbledore's Army and he had already seen more than his share of bloodied corpses, now he led a squad of medics and he knew what he had to do.

He saw many faces that he recognized; too bloody many. Men, women, children, Voldemort didn't care; you were either with him or against him, you and all your family. Neville swore to himself, once he was finished with this business, if he survived, he was going to spend the rest of his life in or near a greenhouse making as much beauty as he could to purge his memories.

Once he had seen the last of the heads he looked at his two partners, who nodded, then performed the _'evanesco'_ charm that vanished the horrors that he had been forced by his duties to memorize. If only he could rid his mind of the images as easily. Two other medics arrived on scene carrying a stone penseive between them, Neville and his assistants gladly pulled the memories of what they had seen from their minds and placed them into the stone bowl. At least now the memories were not fresh and in the front of their minds. The memories would be available for the bereaved to look through later.

He pulled a miniature broom from his pocket and sub-vocalized 'finite,' cancelling the shrinking charm and restoring it to its full size. Neville nimbly hopped astride the broom and chuckled as he realized how far he had come since that first disastrous flying lesson so many years ago. He flew up to the wall to give Harry a report.

Without preamble he said "from the DA, the Browns, Finnegans, and Spinnets, and the Thomases."

"Any Order members?"

"No, but lots of DA members have lost their families. Merlin Harry, is that maniacal fuck just going to kill everybody?"

"Seems like, Neville, I have to wonder what's he going to do once everyone's dead?"

"No redheads?"

By 'redheads' Neville knew that Harry meant any of the Weasley clan.

"Nope, the fidelius is holding."

"Thank whatever gods there are for small favors."

A deceptively calm voice from behind Harry asked, "Is it true?"

'Whatever gods there are are petty and delight in human suffering' Harry thought as he turned to face Dean Thomas.

"Is it true?" Dean repeated.

"Yes Dean, it's true, I'm so sorry."

Dean could see how the deaths of all the innocents were weighing down on his soul, he could see in Harry's eyes the pain and loss that he felt himself, multiplied a thousand times.

"Tell me that I will see him suffer, him and anyone who wears that fuckin mark!"

"The lucky ones will die quickly, after that; they belong to the survivors of those families. Do with them whatever you will, but remember Dean, your family didn't ever want to see you become one of them!" Harry pointed to the forest, where Voldemort's troops were assembled. "Everyone who bears the mark will be judged, everyone! Whether on that battlefield or in the Wizengamot, they will be judged!"

Dean stood at the ramparts and prayed for the enemy to come, he had a lot of killing to do today.

ooo000ooo

Myrtle and the Bloody Baron, whose actual name she still hadn't learned, moved through the tunnels beneath the castle, they knew at least two of them came out in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, their entrances had been caved in centuries ago, but solid rock did not deter the spirit folk. They passed through the rock easily and poked their heads out of the ground.

"Baron" she hissed, "your hat!"

The baron removed his extravagant hat with its large silver buckle and white plume and affixed it to his belt "sorry" he mumbled.

Get a good count here and then we can report back to the defenders.

ooo000ooo

The Auror in Charge on Site was Auror Captain Emery, his troops called him Captain or ACOS. The DMLE officer was on detached duty reporting to the head of the Order of the Pheonix, one Harry James Potter, all his troops called _him_ Harry. Captain Emery was skeptical at first, but he had seen what the Boy Who Lived could do and was on board one hundred percent. When the excited ghost girl asked to be taken to whoever was in charge that was actually Harry.

"Harry, a moment please?"

"Yes Captain?"

"This young lady says she has some information for us."

"Myrtle?"

Myrtle was hesitant at first, remembering how she had lashed out at Harry, unjustly, over his duel with Draco and she still felt the sting of his rebuke when he finally had it out with her, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was as guilty as Draco had been for the first invasion of Hogwarts in a thousand years and the subsequent death of Albus Dumbledore.

"Harry, some of the ghosts have agreed to work with you, all of you defending the castle."

"Go on" he said, encouragingly.

"The Bloody Baron and I have scouted the enemy and I have a full report."

Harry smiled and said "brilliant, Myrtle if I could I would hug you right now, this could be just what we need right now! Captain bring your lieutenants up here, Ron, get your brothers, Neville and Dean and Padma up here right away – use your patronus, quickly!"

In ten minutes all the leaders were diagramming the enemy's strength and position.

Three giants, each with a tree trunk to use as battering rams.

One hundred and fifty inferi in a corral being herded by a necromancer.

Two dozen mountain trolls, each about half the size of a giant, carrying clubs with ugly spikes protruding from them.

Fifty death eaters mounted on brooms practicing strafing runs.

An additional two hundred death eaters carrying crossbows as well as wands.

Half a dozen goblin ward breakers

No sign of dementors.

"Ron, no one has beaten you in a game of chess in the past seven years that I know of, can we contain these guys?"

Ron's brow was knit in concentration, "yep, but we're gonna bleed, no way around it."

"Are we gonna win, Ron?"

He nodded, a grim expression on his face, "yeah, we're gonna win."


	3. Chapter 3: Observations and Revalations

Chapter 3: Observations and Revelations

One year followed another at Hogwart's, some more eventful than others. The castle ghosts all agreed that they had seen just about every form of physical human joining possible at least twice. Young people would always have their romances; there wasn't an untouched broom cupboard anywhere on campus, neither were there any greenhouses, towers, or alcoves that hadn't been used or abused as trysting spots. There was a particularly favored alcove on the sixth floor behind the tapestry of knights being chased by dragons where if the dragons appeared to be sleeping it meant that the small hallway was empty, if the dragons were restless then it was occupied.

The dragons were restless more often than not.

It said something about the code of secrecy among the students that no professor ever found out about it, which was odd, since nearly all the professors had been Hogwart's students at some point . . .

Myrtle became a keen observer, an unobtrusive connoisseur of effective sexual techniques; she could literally watch with one eye if she phased herself to the edge of a wall. Over the decades she witnessed what all the other ghosts described, but to her it was still fresh and fascinating. It was often like watching a train wreck - ugly but you just couldn't take your eyes off it. One early evening she was so frustrated by a couple who couldn't seem to get it together that she popped her head out of the broom closet wall and moaned, "no, no! You're doing it all wrong!" The girl shrieked and ran out into the hallway sans skirt, _and_ pants proving to the world, or at least the other students in the hallway, that she was in fact _not_ a natural blonde. The boy ran after her trying to return her garments. The couple in question had the audacity to bring a complaint against her to the head of their house. Needless to say the teens were in a lot more trouble than Myrtle.

The Marauders were legend in their years at Hogwart's; no one was ever seriously hurt by their innovative pranks, although one particularly obnoxious greasy haired Slytherin was very nearly killed by a werewolf. In the end the greasy git was safe, but vowed a vendetta against the other boy. Funny way to thank someone for saving your life, oh well.

Shortly after the Marauders graduated Myrtle started seeing a procession of redheads, brilliant hair, and brilliant students. Prefects, quidditch stars, Head boys all, well, _nearly_ all. The oldest boy seemed to have no trouble keeping the dragons on the sixth floor tapestry busy. And the twins, the ones who didn't make prefect, were delightful to watch and listen to as their back and forth 'twin-speak' made even the ghosts dizzy.

One day she heard a boy's voice in her bathroom ask "so tell me again, why are we brewing polyjuice potion in broad daylight in the middle of a girls' bathroom?"

"Nobody ever comes in here."

"Why not?"

"Moaning Myrtle."

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?"

It was time for Myrtle to have a little fun, and she did, playing the part of a petulant, slightly balmy ghost to the girl's obvious delight – _she_ knew it was all just an over the top act. Really, boys could be so thick sometimes.

She met Harry that day. She knew, somehow, that their futures were entwined. Myrtle didn't have the best marks in her year for divination for no reason; she was something of a seer. She didn't wish him any harm, but it would be nice to have someone near her own age to keep her company if he did die.

Two years later she saw Harry again, in the prefect's bathroom. She got to see quite a bit of Harry actually, he was forming rather nicely. A couple of more years and he would be a god! She helped him with the clue and had a little fun in the process. Later on while in the lake she directed him toward Ron and Hermione and the others being held by the merpeople.

The year after that Myrtle started noticing a petite girl with the same shade of red hair as the twins and Ron. She heard her name was Ginny, she heard the name 'Ginny' being moaned by a veritable parade of boys in closets, empty classrooms, the sixth floor alcove, the roof of greenhouse number one and the top of the astronomy tower. It made her ponder the inequities of gender in the world. When Ginny's older brother had a different girl every month he was considered a stud, a sexual superstar. Now, as his baby sister seemed to be following in his footsteps she was considered a slut, a slag, a roundheel, a bint, a whore, ah well, you get the idea.

Another year passed and she heard a young man crying in one of the boy's toilets. He was a miserable looking skinny boy with straight light blond hair, his face all screwed up in pain.

"Shall I fetch Madame Pomfrey; do you need a healer, are you hurt?"

The startled boy spun around and leveled his wand at her, his face a mask of fury.

He seemed to run the entire gamut of human emotions in five seconds, as though he was weighing something. Then he lowered his wand and asked, "I don't suppose you know how to fix a vanishing cabinet?"

A few months after that she saw Harry and Draco duel in that same bathroom. She was horrified to see Harry Potter, the supposed champion of Light Magic cast such a dark spell as _sectum_ _sempra, _Merlin's beard, didn't he know his Latin? It meant "cut forever," without proper medical care Draco would bleed out and die. For the first time in fifty years Myrtle lost it, literally screaming bloody murder down the castle halls.

The next time she saw Harry it was to harangue him about his attempted murder of her only corporeal friend.

Harry exploded.

"Silencio!"

To her amazement, she found she couldn't speak.

"Have you managed to convince yourself that _I_ attacked _him_?" he demanded, green eyes boring into her grey ethereal ones, "who started with the unforgivables? Who started cursing in the first place? What was he planning to do, and . . . wait a minute?" Harry realized something that he should have known all along. "You and he talked for hours; you must have known what he was trying to do!"

Myrtle shrank back toward a wall.

"When did you know, Myrtle? When did you know that he was planning an attack on this castle, planning to bring death eaters into these halls, to _kill_ Albus Dumbledore?"

She was so mortified that as soon as Harry released her from the silencing spell she dove into the nearest toilet wailing in grief and guilt.

How could she have been so stupid, stupid, _stupid_? Easy enough, she was lonely. Draco was lonely too; she could sense that, she also knew he feared for his life and that of his mother, he wasn't evil; he was painted into a corner – how many times had she witnessed _that_ over the decades?

She promised herself, then and there, she would make it up to Harry somehow, someday. And somehow she would try to help Draco, wherever he was.

ooo000ooo

The castle alarm sounded, indicating that there was a breach in the protective wards outside the walls; the walls themselves were still warded.

The flying squad came in first diving out of the sun strafing the parapets with jets of flaming acid, the effect would have been devastating if the defenders hadn't been warned against that tactic, physically impenetrable shields contained the flaming corrosive and flung it back at the flyers, all of whom shrieked in agony as they crashed into the ground just outside the walls. Apparently the acid was charmed to keep burning until nothing was left of the victims. Two fliers had held back and not attacked anyone; they were still hovering high above the parapets, acting as spotters perhaps.

Dean Thomas screamed "_incendio!"_ and sent an anger powered jet of flame at the remaining attackers igniting their robes, hair and brooms simultaneously. The two hapless airmen spiraled down into the courtyard where they lay still and smoldering.

The young black wizard leveled his wand at the smoldering forms and was about to scream another curse when Harry gently said "please don't."

"They're part of the murdering scum that killed my family, I have the right!"

"I need your focus up here Dean. Tell you what, when this is over, if you want you can go down and look them in the eye, if you still want justice then you can have their heads, okay? But right now we need you here."

Dean nodded and looked grimly at the forest. Three giants, two male and one female, burst from the trees at a trot, each one carrying a six-meter length of tree trunk with a fire-hardened point. Each wore a visored helmet to protect his (or her) eyes from spell damage. Their eyes were their only real weak point, a giant's thick skin could absorb any spell the defenders could cast, even unforgivables. As they ran across the grounds they began to stumble then one after the other they fell into the grass, slapping at the thousands of tiny wounds on their bodies, especially their feet.

"And that's what happens when you transfigure grass into steel razor blades."

The giants continued to howl in pain as they were sliced by tens of thousands of razor sharp stalks of grass. Even their thick, calloused skin could be flensed by the actions of so many blades. Their blood attracted thestrals, dozens of thestrals who circled the giants like invisible vultures waiting for them to stop moving.

A powerful blasting curse shook the castle to its foundations. When the dust settled a deep furrow twenty meters wide and a meter deep extended from the edge of the forest to the castle gates, the grass was gone, as were the giants, who were seen running into the forest leaving great bloody footprints behind.

Twenty four mountain trolls ran out of the woods through the fresh turned soil, free of razor grass, brandishing their metal spiked clubs.

Ron cried out "all together on three _'aquimentus maximus'_ fill the trench with water!"

The defenders did and soon the freshly turned soil became very slick mud.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your entertainment, naked troll mud wrestling here at Hogwart's!"

The trolls couldn't get any traction as they fell over and onto each other and each other's clubs, which angered them to the point where they started swinging at each other. Before long only two trolls were still, well not standing, but sort of kneeling as they swung their spiked clubs at each other, connecting more often than not. They took each other out and saved the defenders the trouble.

The inferi began to emerge from the forest, not worried about pain or blood loss from the razor grass, as they felt no pain and whatever blood they had wasn't exactly flowing anymore. Behind the inferi the death eater troops walked on the razors without any problems owing to their newly conjured dragon hide boots.

Harry passed a message along the battlements, "When the inferi get close enough begin the burning spells. Fire will stop them."

Myrtle hovered in front of Harry and said, "I think we can help here, the inferi are just dead people without souls. We are breathing-challenged people without bodies; I think we might be able to control them."

"How?" Harry asked, desperate for any help he could get.

"By possessing them!"

With that she flew off the battlements and into one of the foremost inferi, which stopped, turned, and began to walk away from the castle.

The other ghosts saw this and all dove over the wall to find an inferi to 'drive.'

The auror next to Harry said "d'you see that bloke on the broom, just at the tree line?"

"Yeah."

"Even money says he's a necromancer, the one controlling the inferi, take him out and they're just walkin' dead people, no direction."

"Get your ten best spell casters on the wall to bring that arsehole down. Narrow beam cutting curses should do it."

The necromancer was confused? Why wasn't his mob following his directions? He flew away from the cover of the trees to get a closer look when three inferi saw him, turned their backs to him, bent over and dropped trou. The necromancer was so amazed at being mooned by his own inferi he didn't realize he'd left the safety and concealment of the forest far behind. This made it ridiculously easy for the sharpshooters on the wall to take him down. He was hit by eight of the ten cutting curses fired from the battlements and fell to the ground in pieces. The inferi stopped moving, just standing there, except for those that had been possessed by the castle ghosts, those advanced on the DE troops and began attacking them with tooth and nail and whatever weapons they could find lying around, sticks, rocks, handfuls of razor grass, whatever.

The troops had been routed by a handful of inferi on a mission; they ran back to the woods.

On the ramparts the defenders were cheering, they had thrown back everything Voldemort had sent their way.

Helen Smythe, a young, female auror, fresh out of training ran up to Harry.

"One of the prisoners says he needs to talk with you sir!"

"I'm not a sir, I'm just Harry."

"Yes sir, he says his name is Malfoy."

Harry ran down the stairs to the courtyard. Malfoy was in bad shape, half his face was badly burned, he'd probably lose the sight in his left eye. His lips were blackened and bleeding. He was being tended to by Neville, but his chances of survival didn't look good.

"You said you needed to talk to me Draco?"

"Yeah Potter, I have a message from Snape. He says use the elves."

"Use the elves?"

"Yeah"

"Is that all?"

"No he says elves can't use their magic against wizards, but dementors . . ."

Draco coughed up blood.

"Draco!" the other prisoner screamed.

Harry spun so quickly at the sound of the other prisoner's voice he lost his balance and fell to his knees. He was in a state of complete shock as he slowly, mechanically grabbed the thin wrist of the prisoner's left arm and drew back the sleeve. A fresh dark mark glared from the inside of her elbow. Even through the mass of tangled singed hair and soot blackened features he would recognize that face and that voice anywhere.

It was Ginny Weasley.


	4. Chapter 4: Happy Thoughts People!

Chapter 4: "Happy Thoughts People!"

Myrtle took to watching the 'golden trio' whenever they were in the castle. The headmaster was dead; there was a debate in the Ministry over whether or not to close the school. Harry, Hermione and Ron were given cart blanche to use whatever resources the school had to offer, especially the library and the potions lab.

One afternoon as she was observing Hermione in the library the bushy-haired brunette said "I know you're there Myrtle."

The little ghost girl popped out of the bookshelf and drifted down to take a 'seat' at the table.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"What are you doing, other than following us around the castle whenever we're here? As thick as Ron can be even he's noticed that you're always somewhere near whenever we're visiting Hogwart's."

"I'm just 'people watching,' but I'll leave you all alone if you want me to" she said as she began to drift away.

"No, you might as well stay; you have as much right to know what's going on as anyone here, maybe more so."

"How's that?"

"Do you realize that you were Voldemort's first victim?"

Myrtle was shocked, "m-me? What did Voldemort have against me?"

"Do you remember how you died?"

"Of course, the basilisk, Harry told me after he'd killed it."

"Tom Riddle set the basilisk on you Myrtle."

"Tom? The prefect Tom?" now she was just confused, Riddle had never shown her anything but kindness in the times she had interacted with him. He'd been one of a very few people who had ever stood up for her.

"Tom Riddle is Voldemort." Hermione did the 'Tom Morvolo Riddle, I am Lord Voldemort' anagram for the ghost's benefit.

Tom used your death to create his first horcrux.

Hermione was in her 'explaining things' mode and she had Myrtle riveted in her seat as she described the procedure for creating and then using a horcrux, a 'soul piece' as it were.

"So how many times could he have fractioned his soul?"

"Six times, he has to keep one part in his body, then six fractions going out to various horcruxes."

How many have been destroyed?

"Two for sure, possibly three."

"And how many has he used?"

"Beg pardon?"

"How many has he used? How many times has he had to use a horcurx to come back from the dead?"

Hermione stood up so quickly that her chair fell over, startling Myrtle in the process.

"_Expecto_ _Patronum_!" she cried, causing a large river otter to form from the end of her wand, she addressed her patronus "find Harry and Ron, tell them to meet us here as soon as possible!"

The otter nodded and gamboled off.

Hermione righted her chair and sat down in it heavily.

"How could I have been so _stupid_ as to have missed that?" she berated herself.

"I don't understand."

She ticked off a list on her fingers, "one, Harry, little _baby_ Harry mind you, destroys Voldemort at the tender age of one and a half."

She counted off a second finger, "two, eleven year old Harry destroys Voldemort again, this time in the form of a Quirrell parasite."

A third finger, "three, he destroys a horcrux, the one Riddle created by murdering you,"

Fourth finger, "four, he reconstitutes his body, no matter what the ritual, one soul piece had to be spent to accomplish this."

Fifth finger, thumb actually, "five, Professor Dumbledore destroys the ring, making yet another soul piece unavailable."

She ticked off the index finger of her other hand, "six, Professor Dumbledore was positive that the snake, Nagini, either is or contains a horcrux and Nagini is never out of Voldemort's sight so . . ."

Myrtle got it, "so if we can get Voldemort and his snake in the same place, at the same time then he can be well and truly put paid to!"

Harry and Ron were out of breath as they ran into the Restricted Section, good thing Madame Pince was not around. Both had their wands drawn, anticipating trouble. Myrtle faded out of sight, apparating back to her bathroom. She wasn't ready to face Harry yet.

"What's the emergency?" Harry gasped.

"No emergency, but you'll want to see this, here, sit down and listen."

She explained her logic and the boys could find no fault with it.

Harry recited, "The diary, the ring, the locket, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's, and the snake. None of it matters, two horcruxes are known to have been destroyed, three had to have been used, that leaves Nagini and whatever part of a soul the Dork Lord keeps in himself."

"It was really Myrtle that pointed it out to us." She gestured to the empty chair to her right.

Harry beamed at the chair, expecting the ghost to reappear, his expression falling a bit when she didn't.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Myrtle and I had words recently, I'm afraid I wasn't very tactful, or kind."

"I'm sure she'll get over it Harry, she did help us today, after all, and ghosts are known to be very patient."

"Some have been known to hold a grudge for centuries" Ron interjected, earning a scathing look from his girlfriend.

"I'm just saying" he said as he raised his hands, in surrender.

"Thanks Ron" Harry added with a smirk. His expression turned serious as he added "we need to call the Order together, it's time they knew about the horcruxes."

Headmistress McGonnagal called an emergency meeting of the order; all current members were present with Mundungus Fletcher being conspicuous by his absence. The meeting was held in the library which allowed Myrtle to eavesdrop.

The headmistress stood at the head of the long library table "I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order, fist order of business; appoint a new leader for the order."

"New leader?" Harry asked, "Professor, I thought you would be the new leader."

Murmurs of agreement all around.

"I am not a wartime leader, Mister Potter, I have never led troops into battle or even faced more than one opponent in a duel; our new leader must have the ability to inspire, to lead by example. We need someone who can become a symbol of light magic that the people will rally around."

Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and said "someone like you, son."

Harry smiled up at his old professor as if sharing a joke, then, seeing the 'no, I'm not joking' expression on Lupin's face he exclaimed "Sweet Merlin on a bike, you're serious?"

"No, I'm Remus, but Sirius would have agreed with me one hundred percent."

Groans all around.

"More importantly, Mr. Potter" her face softened, "Harry, it was Professor Dumbledore's wish as well."

Saying this she placed a small stone bowl on the table, at Harry's inquisitive expression she explained, "This is a willstone vessel, it's used to create a tamper proof last will and testament that can only be accessed by one of the beneficiaries. I have already seen the will as I am a beneficiary. Just place the tip of your wand on the edge of the bowl and state your name."

He did so, saying "Harry Potter."

Nothing happened.

"State your full name, Harry."

"Harry James Potter."

A half-sized Dumbledore appeared in the mist above the willstone and began to speak, "I Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, being of sound mind, yes, _sound_ mind and mostly sound body, that is to say all the important protruding parts are fully functional, do hereby proclaim this to be my last will and testament.

First to my beloved Minerva McGonagall, I leave the entire contents of our joint vault in Gringotts with the sincerest hope that you will retire at your earliest possible convenience and spend the rest of your very long life trying to fritter it all away. I fear you will not be able to, as the interest earned on that account will be, in the time it has taken me to say these words, nearly equal to your generous annual salary. What can I say? Dragon's blood has been very good to me. I also leave you my family's estate in Scotland where we have spent the most wonderful summers of my very long life. My only regret, my beloved, is that I could not give you what you wanted most, a child we could call our own. Perhaps that is why I know you'll never really retire, for all the students at Hogwart's truly are the children of your heart.

To Arthur and Molly Weasley I leave my home in Ottery St. Catchpole, you may rename it the 'New Burrow' if you wish. I believe its twenty bedrooms should suffice to accommodate the many visiting grand children I expect you'll be seeing soon. Be kind to the house elves there, they are getting on in years.

To Remus Lupin I leave my properties in Hogsmeade, comprising businesses and real estate including the Hogs Head with the proviso that you allow Alberforth to continue in his position there as Chief Cook and Bottle Washer. And please, keep him away from the goats." At this the image of Albus shuddered, as did the adults in the room, the old headmaster continued, "The properties include the 'Shrieking Shack,' for heaven's sake remove that ridiculous glamour, let people see it for what it is, a beautifully maintained two storey cottage.

I have no living children so I am leaving my personal estates, lock, stock and barrel to my only surviving relative, Harry James Potter."

Here the recording stopped as pandemonium broke out in the library. Albus Dumbledore had a secret life with his deputy headmistress? He owned half of Hogsmeade? He was related to Harry Potter?

The recording of Albus cleared its throat, quieting the room for the moment.

"I placed a three minute pause so that in the event of a public viewing of this willstone order could be restored. I hope that is enough time.

Very well, to continue, my daughter by my first love and my only wife, oh Minerva, I wish you could have found it in your heart to say yes, you said yes to everything else I suggested."

With that he wiggled his eyebrows and Professor McGonagall actually blushed.

"Oh, as I was saying, my daughter Krista Dumbledore met Harold James Potter at Hogwart's and married soon after graduating, she was a beautiful and talented witch who's only flaws were her unruly dark hair and a fierce pride in her son James, as far as she was concerned he could do no wrong. I'm afraid my grandson became the model of pureblood arrogance, thank Merlin for the Muggleborn Lily Evans, she managed to ground him in so many ways. Alas, Krista never got to see her grandson, as she, along with her husband and her mother were killed in a death eater attack the year before Harry was born. I had been called away, the fidelius was set, no one could have found them, but someone did.

Let that be a lesson to you Harry, keep your loved ones close, do not trust the fidelius charm, it can be broken."

Harry felt as though an icicle had pierced his gut, he had the Weasleys and the Lovegoods tucked away at Grimauld Place, under a fidelius charm. First thing, after this meeting he would send another letter to his ex-girlfriend.

"So Harry James Potter, as my only surviving relative I name you my heir in all things, save those that have been disbursed, material and magical. You will find a complete inventory in our ancestral home in Warwick, just ignore the wax figures, Madame Tussand's and I have a long standing agreement.

My beloved Minerva will give you the keys to my estates and my personal vault at Gringotts along with my staff, which I know will accept you as its rightful owner.

Now Harry, you are officially the most powerful wizard in Britain, possibly the world, the Order of the Phoenix is in need of a leader, more than that it is in need of a symbol, a man the magical community can and will rally around. I urge you to take on this task; I believe it is essential for you to triumph over Riddle in the coming months.

I'm off enjoying the next great adventure, I know I will see all of you, but I will be very disappointed if I see any of you anytime soon, farewell."

The image retreated into the stone bowl.

Minerva handed Harry a small bag.

"All the keys and his staff are in here; just a simple '_finite'_ will restore them to full size. Make sure you have at least a three by six foot table when you do, there's quite a lot in here."

Harry's eyes were brimming with tears, "why didn't he tell me?"

"Oh Harry," she said, gathering him up in a gentle embrace, "he didn't want you to worry about him overly much, as he was just the headmaster you could remain somewhat detached, as your great-grandfather you would have been worried sick about him, true?"

"Ever since I found out about magic and Hogwart's I've been trying to connect with a living magical relative and all along he was right here."

"Hidden in plain sight" Minerva said with a slight grin.

She held him at arms length and said rather sternly "Never doubt that he loved you, Harry."

"I don't, I just wish . . ."

"What Harry?"

"I just wish you had married him, then you would be my, my . . ."

"Great-Grandmother? Oh please Harry, I'm only old enough to be your grandmother!"

He hugged her again and said "_I_ think you're great."

Minerva allowed herself to settle into the warmth of his embrace for a moment, then put him back at arm's length.

"Enough of that now, you have an army to form, a war to win, you canna' afford to be soft."

"That's where you're wrong Professor, I know what my greatest weapon is, and its strength comes from here" he said placing his hand on his chest over his heart.

"I move that Harry James Potter be tasked with the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Seconded"

"All in favor of Harry James Potter for the position of Leader of the Order of the Phoenix say aye."

The resounding "Aye!" was only eclipsed by the ball of fire that burst over their heads. Faulks the Phoenix had come home. The large scarlet and gold bird landed lightly on Harry's right shoulder.

"Opposed?"

Silence

"Motion carries"

Harry stepped up to the head of the table, "Hermione, Ron, contact all the members of the DA, tell them we need them here in the castle. Tell them to bring their families as well, tell them that the war's begun and this is the safest place. As soon as the meeting ended he sent Hedwig off with a letter for Ginny.

_Dear Ginny,_

_We had an important meeting today, and I was reminded of you. Would you please come back to Hogwart's? I think some exciting things will be happening here over the next couple of months that you would love to be part of. We all miss you and would like to see you again, safe and sound._

_Yours truly,_

_Harry_

"Why Ginevra, I think he still has feelings for you!"

"Shall I tell him that I'll see him soon, master?"

"Oh yes, write and tell him that you feel very safe with your friends and that he shouldn't worry about you and that you'll likely seem him very soon."

Voldemort delighted in the irony, the girl wasn't even imperioused, just _motivated_ to do his bidding; it was too delicious.

Elf magic was the key; an elf could apparate away from a place, then return with a two-way portkey to kidnap a redheaded pureblood girl. She was given the choice, she could be part of a death eater revelry where she would likely be raped to death while watching whichever one of her family members they could capture being slowly tortured, or she could join the ranks and only be used by a single death eater every night, her choice really. She was told that there were two death eaters constantly watching the burrow, the ministry, where her father worked and each of her reckless brothers in their shop in Diagon Alley. The male (and some of the female) DEs all clamored to be the one to 'break in the new bitch,' Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape were given first shot with the promise that when one death eater was tired of her he would just pass her on to the next one.

"We're going to get to know each other very well, Red, it's about time you got to see what a pure blood can do."

They used the two-way portkey to return to her bedroom in Grimauld Place, where he took her without foreplay or finesse. She and Draco were 'enjoying' their first night together when Harry's owl flew in the window. His first impulse was to kill the messenger, but Ginny's cooler head prevailed. She would answer the letters, telling Harry that she was safe and sound and fine so that he wouldn't worry and come looking. Draco decided that he would not get tired of the clever redhead anytime soon and told his master that.

"You have served me better than your useless father ever did, young Malfoy, keep her as long as you like; consider her a gift."

ooo000ooo

Mister Shacklebolt, we need your best combat trainers here, as soon as possible – yesterday if you can find a time-turner. We need lessons in fighting; knock-down, drag out, up-close and personal hit them where and when they're not expecting it fighting and we need it now!"

"I know just the people."

The next day three men and one woman, sergeants all addressed the members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's army.

"Roit, me fine lads and lassies, my name is Weatherford, me mates here are Jonsey and Cattral. And this fine figure of a woman is Barlongo, you can call us Sergeant, we all answer to Sergeant, anyone who calls us "Sir" will learn the difference between an officer and someone who works for a livin'."

Sergeant Barlongo stepped up, "we answer to the Ministries of Magic and Defense, and they have tasked us with the job of turning you lot into a fighting force, like it or not we will be the line drawn in the sand and our job will be to stop anyone from crossing over. To that end we will train you, and when the time comes we will fight beside you. Training will commence immediately."

And train they did, Hogwart's had always been the training grounds for wizards and witches, now it was an instruction ground for combat troops, the thing Harry was most worried about was time. If Voldemort attacked too soon, before they were ready, before _he_ was ready they would lose.

After one particularly grueling day of physical conditioning Harry told Hermione "I was only half joking about the time turners y'know. Could we use one to double up our training times?"

"Bad idea Harry, if your past self see's your future self you may or may not do what needs to be done to become your future self and you may cease to exist in either time. That's the consequence of paradox."

"Oh, um, okay, bad idea."

Over the weeks the auror training staff put the Order members as well as the DA through their paces. Never had the battle hardened sergeants from the DMLE seen such dedication in any group of trainees, they flew through the training syllabus in record time, every one of them. At the end of the sixth week the top sergeant called the trainees to attention.

That's it boys and girls, you've successfully completed all the requirements for auror training, in less than half the time normally allotted. You are now the deadliest magical fighting force on the planet, I will be there when you hand Voldemort his arse on a platter.

Over the weeks several of the families of the DA troops returned to their homes, each family was given an emergency portkey to use should they be attacked, but Harry was still not sanguine about them leaving.

"It's safer here" he told each family as they left.

"I'm tired of this old castle, I need to see that my house is okay, I'm bored" it was like dealing with three year olds.

"We'll come back, you'll see."

Unfortunately, they did; unfortunately it was just their heads.

ooo000ooo

"Ginny . . ."

The injured girl recoiled from Harry's touch.

"Ginny, how? Why?"

She started to laugh, "Oh Harry," she coughed, "if you only knew how long I've waited to talk to me so tenderly; 'I can't be with you anymore,' for some stupid noble reason. And for some stupid noble reason you boxed me away in that Grimm Old Place where Kreature, remember Kreature? _Your_ house elf kidnaps me and hands me to the Dark Lord on a fuckin' silver platter!"

Harry was in a state of shock, Ginny continued, each word landing like a physical blow, "Join or die, that's it. I'm not dead, so I must have joined up! Not like I really had a lot of choice izit?"

"Oh yeah, and I was given to Draco here as his personal plaything, d'you know he used to insist on fuckin' me every time one of your letters arrived? And you wrote a _lot_ over the past couple of months, what maybe sixty letters? Damn my fanny's sore!"

She coughed again.

"Don't worry Harry, he didn't get my precious virginity, I got rid of that years ago. If I'd waited around for you to finally notice me I'd have gone spare from frustration, at least Draco here knows what he wants when he sees it and takes it."

She saw the effect she was having on him and smiled, finally, she'd finally evoked some real feeling from him.

"It could have been you Harry; all you had to do was see what was right in front of you all along."

She lay on the ground in a coughing fit.

Woodenly, drained of emotion Harry told a red-faced Neville, who'd heard the whole conversation, "make a couple of stretchers, take them up to the hospital wing, okay?"

Neville conjured two self levitating gurneys and placed Draco on one and Ginny on the other.

"Wait," Harry asked "who did you kill? Do you even know?"

Ginny looked confused.

"You have a dark mark, which means you've already killed, who was it?"

ooo000ooo

Delores Umbridge woke up in a dark, wet, smelly place. She felt around for her wand but it was not in its holder or in the pocket of her tattered cardie. She focused on a destination, the living room of her house in Cardiff and with great deliberation and even greater determination willed herself to apparate there; to no avail. A door opened spilling a painfully bright white light into the small circular room, as her eyes adjusted to the light she could see the floor was littered with the bones of many creatures, large and small. Some of the skulls looked possibly humanoid. Her pasty complexion drained to parchment white.

A person was standing just inside the door, as if inviting her to leave the room. Delores waddled quickly toward the door when a girl's voice ordered her to stop.

The former Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic drew herself up to her full height, which was still shorter than the girl at the door.

"Do you know who I am?" Umbridge insisted.

"I know you _were_ Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, a Hogwart's Professor in name only, the Grand High Inquisitor and head of the Inquisitorial Squad. I also know you were sacked, demoted, sent off to some meaningless drab office to ride out your time until a Ministry Pension could kick in."

"I have friends in high places, please, you can help me get out of here and I can, I can . . . I can make it worth your while!"

"Why would I want to get you out of here, Umbitch? I was the one who had you brought here!"

"Wait, I know that voice, you're that Weasley girl, right? Arthur Weasley, good man, loyal to the Ministry, surely you are your father's daughter, you'll help me out?"

"Haven't you been listening Dolores? _I_ had you brought here, and you know what? It was too easy. Nobody cares about you, except to see you dead!"

Umbridge sank to her knees in the muck, "please, please, anything you want, please help me . . ."

Ginny was disappointed that she felt so little for the worthless lump of flesh kneeling before her, where was her pride?

"Don't worry Umbridge, you'll be done with this place soon enough, and you will be going out with this thought, you wouldn't have even been here if it hadn't been for the way you treated Harry Potter."

Ginny raised her wand and said softly, so that only Umbridge could hear, "for Harry, _Avada Kedavra!_"

ooo000ooo

"_You have a dark mark, which means you've already killed, who was it?"_

Ginny's smile was feral, "Oh you'll love this; it was Umbridge, and I told her that I was doing it for you Harry, for you."

He nodded his understanding and, sickened by the knowledge, walked away.

As he climbed the steps up to the battlements he noticed the sun was nearly below the horizon. He saw Ron looking quizzically at him, 'oh Merlin, what am I gonna' tell Ron?'

Just then black shapes came floating out of the forest, dementors ringing Voldemort and his troops. The semi-corporeal demons seemed to flow like a black river out of the trees. Two of the death eaters straggled just a bit behind the others and were set upon, instantly kissed by multiple dementors in a feeding frenzy. The rest of the DEs kept a tight formation around their Dark Lord.

Every man and woman on the battlements had produced a corporeal patronus during training.

"Happy thoughts people, think happy thoughts!"

Yeah, right.

What's my happy thought?

ooo000ooo

Author's Note: At this point the two time lines have converged, no more major flashbacks or flash forwards. From time to time I teach the history of the emergence of one technology or other (read the works of James Burke), and in that class I always begin with "this is where we are now. Now let's see how we got here." I've tried to use the same approach for this story.


	5. Chapter 5: The Battle of Hogwarts

Chapter 5: The Battle of Hogwart's

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

The defenders knew to cast their patroni while the dementors were still a good distance away. Each patronus could travel for several kilometers before fading out and a skilled caster could keep more than one going at a time.

Harry on his best day managed to cast three simultaneous stag patroni.

"Happy thoughts people!"

His first kiss, no, that won't work; it was with that hosepipe Cho. His second kiss, no good, that was Ginny and right now she was anything but a positive emotion. Seeing Sirius back in Hogsmeade, no, that eventually led to his death. Dumbledore's unwavering faith in him, shite no, Dumbledore was dead because of his unwavering faith in him. Merlin's balls he was one pathetic looser!

"Harry, we're all behind you."

He looked at Hermione and Ron and Neville and Luna and Dean and Fred and George and both Creevey brothers and the Patil twins and he smiled _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A massive golden stag erupted from Harry's wand, followed by another and yet another. The golden patroni charged into the mass of dementors cutting a wide swath through the sea of black.

The lead stag was so powerful that dementors weren't simply chased off, they were shredded, trampled, their essences obliterated wherever the cloven hooves fell.

"You need to show me how you do that sometime Mr. Potter" Harry looked to his right and was shocked to see Rufus Scrimgeour, Minster of Magic on the battlements.

"Minister, you shouldn't be here!"

"That's where you're wrong Harry; this is exactly where I need to be. I won't be able to show my face in public anymore if I don't stand against that dark bastard and this is where the fight is!"

ooo000ooo

Voldemort was shocked, first by the fact that the lead patroni were golden rather than silver, second by the fact the dementors were being slaughtered wholesale. He had expected to lose some troops, but wasn't used to seeing dementors falling like so many autumn leaves.

"Enjoy your small victories Harry" the dark lord mused, "your patroni can only last a few pitiful minutes, and I have an inexhaustible supply of dementors!"

ooo000ooo

On the wall Ron was shouting "get your patroni to herd the dementors toward Harry's golden stags, otherwise they'll just regroup and attack again.

Like so many border collies the patroni did just that, funneling the dementors toward their doom.

Problem was the patroni were fading, and the dementors were numbered like the blades of grass on the hills.

Something was nagging in the back of Harry's mind, what was it – it was something important; Draco? Yes, Draco!

"Use the elves" he had said.

"Dobby!"

The small elf popped into view just in front of Harry "please master Harry Potter sir, please let us be helping youz!"

"Can you use your magic against the dementors?"

"Yes Harry Potter sir! Wez able to fight bad demon-torz!"

"Get every house elf up here Dobby! We need you!"

"Master Potter must be commanding us!"

"Yes, whatever you say Dobby, I order you to fight the demon-torz alongside the wizards and witches!"

Dobby smiled grimly and popped away.

"Hurry back little friend" he urged.

Voldemort formed a torus of power, himself at the center, his death eaters, almost two-hundred strong enclosed within the doughnut shape. While the torus remained intact he and his troops were essentially weightless and could easily be lifted over the wall by the surrounding mass of hovering dementors. The idea was to move to a part of the wall were the defenders were weakening and then simply drift over the walls to land on the battlements and in the courtyard below.

The dark lord directed the main force of semi-corporeal demons to the wall where most of the patroni were originating, then, under cover of darkness he skirted his formation to the battlements overlooking the lake. He assumed, correctly, that none of the defenders expected an attack from that quarter.

There were only three defenders on that wall who could even produce a weak patronus, Lavender Brown, and the two Hufflepuff prefects, Daniel Stebbins and Lori Baxter. They were quickly overwhelmed, still, Lavender's Labrador retriever patronus held off the inevitable for just a few precious seconds. Knowing she was lost Lavender proved she was sorted into the proper house by directing her retriever to find Harry, to tell him Voldemort was in the castle. As the silver Labrador scampered off two dementors seized the Gryffindor defender.

Dementors began flowing into the castle over the undefended wall, sucking the life forces, the consciousnesses, the very souls from the defenders.

Half a dozen dementors overwhelmed the Creeveys before they even knew they were there, Colin's last coherent word was a strangled "Harry!"

Padma, Parvati, George and Fred directed their patroni to stand in front of them as they stood back to back, a stalemate that they knew they would soon lose because a patronus could only exist for a very few minutes. Scrimgeour stood with his back to the wall directing his lion to circle the twins, ensuring their safety for as long as he could.

"If we get out of this I'm going to ask you to marry me!" George shouted to the Patil twins.

"Which one of us?" Padma asked.

"Which ever one of you says yes first!"

The Patil twin's Shetland pony patroni doubled in both size and number.

Harry was beginning to weaken, the strain of maintaining three powerful corporeal stags was draining his magic.

Lavender's retriever appeared before him and in her voice said "Voldemort and death eaters are on the lakeside wall!"

Neville Longbottom was on his broom again looking for wounded that he could help, he had already snatched three unconscious defenders away from dementors before they could be kissed and was physically and magically exhausted. His exhaustion evaporated when he spied death eaters being levitated down from the battlements, there was no mistaking the witch in charge of the levitation charm for anyone else; it was Bellatrix Lestrange. He hovered a little closer, staying away from castle lights, his dark robes covering him in the twilight. He waited until the witch had a good two dozen DEs high in the air then sent a powerful bludgeoning hex her way. Into that hex he placed all the anger and frustration that he had endured over the years, the memory of what that bitch had done to his parents. Little wonder the curse smacked her like a giant's hand pulverizing her against the stone inner wall. As for the two dozen death eaters? Well, they couldn't very well levitate themselves. They fell screaming to the ground where the least of the injuries were compound fractures of both legs. Dementors swooped down and rendered them soulless husks.

Neville surveyed the courtyard and could find no one in immediate need of his help so he flew back to the great hall where Madame Pomfrey was already transfiguring tables and benches into rows upon rows of hospital beds, assisted by Horace Slughorn, who also had half a dozen large cauldrons brewing on the raised stage where the professors usually took their meals. Two dozen first years were helping wherever they could. Neville heard a strangled sob near the wall and looked behind a tapestry to find a tiny Hufflepuff girl cowering in fear; she yelped as he pulled back the tapestry.

"Hey sweetheart, it's okay . . ."

The little girl with stringy dish blonde hair screwed up her face and bawled "no, it's not okay, don't ya feel it, it's like, it's like . . ."

"It's like you'll never be happy again."

That shocked her in to silence, and she nodded.

"It's what they do, they suck all the hope and joy and happiness out of us" he explained, then he touched the side of his nose with his fingertip and said conspiratorially, "but I know a secret."

"What's that?" she asked, wide eyed.

"All you need is a happy thought to drive them off!"

She looked down and began to sob.

"What's your happiest thought?"

The little girl shook her head.

"No happy thoughts, not one?"

She drew her knees to her chest and began to shudder.

"How about your family, your mum and dad?"

She looked up and said "Me mum hates me, and I don't have a dad."

"Your mum doesn't hate you . . ."

"She does, I hafta stay with me Gran cause mum can't have a _boyfriend_ with me around!"

Neville changed the subject, "how about getting your Hogwart's letter, wasn't that a good thing?"

Her face softened, "yeah, that was the best ever! Me Gran was so happy, they all thought I was a squib, an all of a sudden I get an owl with me letter!"

"What's your name?"

"Amanda Stevens, but everyone calls me Mandy."

"Amanda, do me a favor?"

The little girl nodded.

"Take your wand and point it up and say _lumos_!"

"_Lumos_!"

A bright light came from the wand tip.

"Great, now think about getting your letter, and how you felt, okay, got it?"

She nodded

Now do it again.

"_Lumos_!"

The light was so bright that they both had to shield their eyes.

"Excellent, now here is what you have to do, get as many of the firsties as you can over here and teach them this trick, it's important, because the dementors can't stand bright lights and yours is the brightest I've seen in a very long time. If a dementor tries to get in you and your friends hit him with the light, okay?"

Amanda threw her arms around the tall boy's neck and hugged him hard before running off to gather up her classmates.

Back on the wall Harry yelled over to his best friends, "I have to go to the lakeside wall, keep everyone on task here.

"Take care mate," Ron called back.

"Be careful Harry!" Hermione warned.

Ron and Hermione were amazed that the golden stag patroni continued to fight even without Harry's direct control; they continued herding the soul-suckers to their doom. They were so intent on what was going on outside the walls they failed to see what was happening behind them and were stunned from behind by a squad of death eaters running across the courtyard. The unconscious Gryffindors were immediately set upon by two hungry dementors.

Harry arrived at the poorly defended wall and saw sheer pandemonium. Death eaters were stunning people on the walls and down in the courtyard, then letting the dementors feed, it was a sickening spectacle. The DEs obviously had the upper hand, firing deadly hexes from beneath and behind the semi-corporeal demons, but in spite of this the castle defenders were not giving up; they found what cover they could among the rubble even using the bodies of the fallen. Members of the Order and the DA were giving as good as they got, and better, many of the wounded battled on until they were overcome by death or dementor.

"Riddle! It's not enough for you to take their lives you motherless bastard, you have to steal their souls too?"

"Ah Harry, ready to continue our lesson; the one we started so many years ago?"

"It ends here, Riddle, tonight!"

"So it does."

Voldemort knew he was a master of magic, with or without a wand, and he knew he needed to use every trick he could think of to finish Potter off for good and all. As he sent a blasting curse from his wand he summoned stones from the castle wall to crush Harry in the center, but the young man was nimble and quick.

Harry was using all the combat moves he had learned from the sergeants, plus a special trick taught by Sergeant Barlongo; 'quick-time' combat.

For a precious few moments Harry could speed up time in his personal space - the effect was to make everything around him appear to move in slow motion, therefore he could hear the rocks breaking away from the stone battlements and actually see the _bombardia_ heading his way. It was a fairly simple job to avoid both.

While in his accelerated state Harry fired off several spell chains, _"assaluto, reducto, sectum sempra, bombardia!"_

Voldemort's form was battered, twisted, sliced and blown backwards off the battlements, where he landed cat-like on the courtyard below.

"That hurt Harry, now I will have to hurt you; _avada_ _kedavra_"

The killing curse was directed not at Harry, but to the battlements where it blew through a patronus, dropping a tall red-headed defender.

"I believe that was a Weasley, Harry. You have feelings for them do you not? I know one of them, the little girl, had feelings for you once upon a time."

"Who do _you_ care about you worthless fuck; who do you have worth caring for?"

"Why, no one Harry, and that is my greatest strength. No one can be used against me – your stupid sentimentality is your greatest weakness!"

There was an unearthly howl coming as if from ten thousand voices. Dementors appeared to implode all around the castle. The hundred or so house elves of Hogwart's were casting spells on all the soul-sucking demons they could see.

The screeching distracted Harry and the dark lord smiled and raised his wand.

Harry felt rather than heard the _crucio_ coming his way; he accelerated himself again and stepped into the path of a pulverizing hex, damn, snake face learned fast! He twisted and dove but the edge of the powerful curse shattered the lower bones of his right leg and foot. The pain was enough to blind him but he refused to cry out.

He applied an emergency first-aid charm, a temporary fix at best, to splint his leg, ankle and foot, so that he could still move. Harry returned a circular cutting curse that sliced deeply into Voldemort's neck, forcing the snark lord to apply his own emergency healing spell.

In spite of his injury Harry got to his feet quickly and put a physical shield of stone and mortar between himself and the AK heading his way. The deadly curse shattered the shield but protected Harry, unfortunately his choice of shielding materials cost him his glasses as stone shards shattered his frames and lenses – the skin of his face was shred, especially around his eyes; only the purest of dumb luck protected his eyes from the shrapnel.

Harry was fumbling for his spare pair when he felt his arms suddenly stuck to his sides and his legs bound together.

"Enough boy, time to die; _avada_ - "

Powerful reductor curses came at Voldemort from four different directions; the force of the hexes picked up the dark lord like a rag doll and flung him against the wall halfway up the stairs to the battlements.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

Dobby stood before Harry, both his hands extended as he threw the dark lord against the wall again, and again. With just a glance the house elf released Harry from his bonds.

"Harry Potter, we shall deal with the dementors now, you must go to your friends; it may already be too late . . ."

Harry was shocked at the lack of 'elf-speak' coming from his diminutive friend, but heard what Dobby was saying. He stumbled up the steps as fast as his shattered bones would allow, past Voldemort's battered and broken body and found dementors floating over the prone forms of Hermione and Ron.

"No!" Harry screamed and he threw his hands straight out in front of him and the nearest dementor, the one hovering over Ron burst into flame and began to writhe in apparent agony, Harry turned his glare to the other dementor who quickly dove over the battlements and away from the wall.

Harry ran to his two best friends, "oh no, oh no, oh please by all that's holy no!"

Neither Ron nor Hermione were there anymore. Their essences, their souls, everything that made them special, unique, _them_ was gone.

"Oh what a pity, I would have liked to have killed the dirt vein myself."

It just wasn't fair. Couldn't that miserable snake shite just fuckin' die already?

Dobby appeared between Harry and the dark lord again.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

"Harm him? You pathetic little vermin, I've _destroyed_ him! Just look."

And Dobby did.

Harry Potter was seated on the cold stone deck of the rampart, one knee bent, his splinted leg straight. He was cradling Hermione's unresponsive head against his chest rocking back and forth. With tear filled eyes he looked up to Voldemort and simply said, "Kill me."


	6. Chapter 6: Battle Ends and Aftermath

Chapter 6:

_Harry Potter was down on the cold stone deck of the rampart cradling Hermione's unresponsive head against his chest rocking back and forth. With tear filled eyes he looked at Voldemort and simply said, "Kill me."_

Voldemort smiled and raised his wand "I said you would beg me for death; and I, being a merciful lord . . ."

Hermione moaned "no."

Harry froze.

He dared hope for a miracle.

"Hermione?" he murmured.

She whispered, "On three hit him with a flame hex, ready . . . one, two, _three_!"

On 'three' they rolled away from each other; she made a slashing movement with her wand and screamed "_diffindo_!" as Harry shouted "_inflamare_!"

Voldemort's extended arm dropped to the ground, his fingers curling around his wand just before he burst into flame.

Screaming he ran toward Harry and Hermione but was stopped by a physical shield courtesy of Dobby.

"Harry Potter," the elf said, "he is healing far too quickly, we are just making him angry!"

To prove the point the flames winked out and Voldemort's blackened skin began to flake off revealing the unscarred parchment white skin beneath.

"He has Lady Ravenclaw's healing jewel somewhere on his person" a calm voice said from just behind Harry. He spared a glance and saw the ghost of the Grey Lady.

Hermione asked, "how do you know this, milady?"

"Because child, Lady Grey is my married name, I was born Rowena Ravenclaw."

Harry put as much power as he could into the simple _accio_ spell to retrieve the stone from Voldemort's possession. He was fully prepared to hear tearing cloth or leather, from whatever was holding the jewel; he did not expect to hear the dork lard screaming in unholy agony as the stone ripped through the skin just below his ribcage. The gem, a fist sized blue sapphire, landed wetly in Harry's outstretched hand.

Voldemort shrieked as he fell to the stone floor, curled into a fetal ball and pressed both his hands on the exit wound made from the summoned stone, but without the healing power of the jewel he could barely staunch the flow.

Harry saw Hermione, bewildered and disheveled and thought she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment. He looked at his own tattered robes, at the wand in his right hand and the jewel in his left.

The jewel, Rowena Ravenclaw's healing stone.

The final horcrux.

In his hand.

The Dork Lard had sacrificed his familiar to give himself an edge in battle and a simple _accio_ had deprived him of even that.

Something spoke in the back of his mind "you will have a power that he knows not."

And Harry finally understood. He hadn't really planned to survive the day, but he was determined to take Riddle with him. Harry loved his friends, his Hogwart's family - the only real family he'd ever known, more than his own life. Bottom line, while Harry wasn't afraid to die, especially if it meant his loved ones would be able to live in a Voldemort-free world, _Voldemort_ feared death above all other fates – he had endured pain and loss and the rending of his soul just so that he wouldn't have to die. But he didn't love. He didn't love life, he didn't love anyone, point in fact; he didn't even love himself. Fear and loathing were all he had; he was a living (if you can call it that) construction of nihilistic malevolence, it was all he was.

He could feel the malevolence radiating from the stone, Harry's first thought was to smash the jewel against the granite battlements but he was stopped by Lady Ravenclaw Grey.

"You still have the connection to Voldemort, use it."

"I don't understand, milady."

"The gemstone will do your bidding, Harry" Hermione explained.

"It can't be that simple."

"Then it can't hurt to try."

"_Finite_!"

The evil drained from the stone like dark oil from a broken vessel. Harry shook the sapphire to make sure all of Riddle's essence emptied out, and then placed it into his pocket.

"So the basilisk's tooth, Dumbledore's ruined arm, the poison filled basin?"

The phantom lady sighed, "All unnecessary I fear; all that was needed was for Voldemort, or some piece of him, to _want_ to end the spell."

The maimed dark lord rasped, "You may think you've won, Potter, but I'm not finished yet!"

The dark lord rolled onto his knees, still bent in pain, screwed his eyes shut and began to chant.

Harry felt an odd pressure on his forehead, as if something were trying to flow out of his scar, but was being held in by the skin of his brow, he reached up and felt a lump, like a blister forming there.

In the hospital wing Ginevra Weasley shrieked as the same black bile that had drained from Rowena's stone began to bleed from her eyes, ears and nose. A healer's assistant quickly contained the black bile and worked to clear the young girl's airway of the residue before she could choke on it.

"Better for her if I'd just let her asphyxiate," the young apprentice healer thought "all she's got to look forward to is a lifetime in Azkaban."

Back on the wall the skin behind Harry's scar burst releasing the pressure in a spurt of black ichorous fluids.

Through the searing pain he heard the lady ghost cry "Stop him!" Her urgency, the near panic in her eyes made Harry act immediately.

"_Reducto!_"

The explosive curse impacted Voldemort blasting him to the wall where the deck of the parapet joined the vertical stones. The result looked less like a dark lord and more like an unnaturally flattened road kill.

The chanting ceased.

Voldemort ceased.

The death eaters in the courtyard fell to the ground and writhed in agony, clutching their left forearms.

The few remaining dementors hovered in the shadows, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Dobby stood before Harry and said, "It is finished."

The remaining elves all popped onto the high wall along with Harry and Hermione.

A very old elf with a beard that nearly drug the ground stood before the two humans and with great reverence and dignity intoned, "The debt is paid."

The elves began to change before their eyes, large bulbous eyes shrank, and ears began to conform to a more, if not human, then anthropomorphic shape. Indeed many of the elves began to resemble well formed, normally proportioned humans, albeit very short humans.

Dobby had golden blond hair in tight curls around his pointed ears, matte skin and well formed limbs. He snapped his fingers and charcoal grey cotton breeches and polished black boots appeared below his jumper, another snap and the pullover was transfigured into a white linen shirt topped of with a smart forest green vest. The other elves followed suit transfiguring their Hogwart's tea-towels into smart, stylish clothing.

"Harry Potter"

Harry looked around and saw the source of the melodious voice was that of the elder elf, looking for all the world like a miniature version of Albus Dumbledore, complete with elf-sized wizard's robes.

"I am Sage" the old elf said, and bowed.

Harry returned the bow and asked "what is happening here?"

"We are reverting to our true forms; re-becoming the people we were before the enslavement deformed us."

"How can a curse affect an entire race?"

"Two and a half millennia ago we elves were as you see us now, we co-existed with the major magical societies of the day, the Druids of Eyre, the Eastern Mystics as far east as Cathay, and all around the Mediterranean sea, including the Greeks, Egyptians, Assyrians, and Babylonians. But we saw the growing number of human mages as a threat to our existence. Indeed the first acts of aggression in the Human-Elf War were visited upon elves by their human neighbors, something or other about crystals. We felt we had no choice but to take up arms against the wizards and witches of the day. We used our elfin magic to move unseen among the enemy killing many thousands in the first few days of the war; indeed, it looked as though the age of human magic was about to end before it truly began.

Then a confederation of powerful human mages cast a geas upon all the elves, forcing us into perpetual servitude, rendering us incapable of using our magic against a wizard or witch unless that wizard or witch was a danger to one we were sworn to protect."

"That is how I was able to attack the older Malfoy all those years ago" Dobby explained, his natural voice a pleasing tenor, "and how I was able to attack Voldemort today."

Sage continued, "We were forced to serve in this manner until the day that we could redeem ourselves by saving the world of magical men, we had to be commanded by a powerful light wizard to overcome a darkness that would threaten to cover the world. When you commanded us to attack the dark creatures you gave us the keys to our freedom. We are forever in your debt."

With that all the assembled elves knelt and bowed their heads to Harry.

"Um, Sage, Dobby, everyone, please get up."

"As you command Harry Potter."

"Is this change happening all over the world or just here at Hogwarts?"

"It is a universal change, Harry Potter, just as a few elves were responsible for our twenty five centuries of enslavement, only a few elves were needed to affect our delivery from bondage."

"Sage, Dobby, can you and the other Hogwart's elves help us clear away this mess? I understand you are free now and no longer bound to serve us, but I for one would be grateful for any help, and I need to see a healer about this leg."

Lady Ravenclaw Grey asked "have you looked at your injuries?"

Harry felt for the cuts on his face from the shattered stone and found none, he released the magical splint from his leg and gingerly placed his weight on the leg that had been shattered not an hour before. It held his weight perfectly.

"The healing stone" Hermione explained.

"Sometimes I love magic!" Harry exclaimed, then he and Hermione looked at their other best friend, who lay still on the stone parapet and they simultaneously murmured "Ron" hoping against all hope that the miracle would extend to the youngest male Weasley. He drew the stone from hi pocket; knelt down and placed it on Ron's chest and prayed.

After a few moments he called softly "Ron?"

The tall redhead stared blankly into space, breathing in and out, but that was all. Sadly Harry stood and said "I'm so sorry mate, so sorry . . ."

Hermione spun around and hugged Harry tightly, her face against his chest "he's gone" she sobbed.

Harry began to assess the damage: the Creeveys, another Weasley being mourned by the Patil twins and either Fred or George, Lavender, and the Hufflepuff defenders. Oddly enough, most of the casualties in the courtyard were actually death eaters who had been set upon by the dementors when they fell from the ramparts or were taken down by spellfire.

He walked over to the parapet where he saw that it was George laying on the ground, a vacant expression on his face. Parvati and Padma were both clutching the front of his robes, sobbing inconsolably.

'Merlin help me; what am I going to tell Molly and Arthur? Ginny will probably be in Azkaban for the rest of her life, Ron's been dementor-kissed and George had been struck by one of Riddle's last killing curses.

"He was going to ask one of us to marry him" Parvati said, stroking his red hair.

"I know he wasn't serious" Padma sobbed, "but I would have said yes in a heartbeat!"

"Set. The. Date. Then . . ."

The Indian girls both gasped, "George?"

"Owie?" he seemed to ask.

Fred was beside himself with relief, "that was an _AK_ bro! I saw the green curse hit you! You should be with the bleedin' choir invisible!"

"Dunno, m'be he waz weak?"

Padma was startled by her own realization, "the patronus; it had to pass through a patronus to get to George, your patronus must have absorbed the worst of the killing curse!"

"S'plains why I'm just _slightly_ dead" George said through gritted teeth.

"So that makes you only the second person in history to have survived a killing curse; wicked!" Fred enthused.

Harry was heartened by the news, another Weasley would be going home tonight; that would ameliorate some of Molly's grief.

What of Ginny?

What of _Draco_? As much as Harry wanted to see the ferret locked up forever, he _had_ passed the information from Snape that had saved the day. If not for him, Voldemort would have won. He had raped Ginny, countless times to hear her tell it. Wizard custom gave rapists to the family of the victim; it would be for the Weasleys to decide.

He was utterly at a loss as to how to deal with Ginny. Was it his fault that she had been taken, in every sense of the word, by death eaters? He had sent her along with friends and family to Grimauld Place because he knew she would be safe there. It had been _his_ decision, made in good faith.

Why did that sound familiar?

He had endured ten years of hell living with the Dursleys because Dumbledore was sure he'd be safe there. Dumbledore just assumed family would treat their orphaned nephew like, well _family_. He hadn't checked up on little Harry once in that ten-year period.

How often had Harry actually gone to Grimauld Place to check on his guests? Like Dumbledore before him Harry had made a serious mistake in judgment and Ginny was now paying for it.

It really sucked to be him sometimes.

He looked up from his musings and saw the courtyard was clear of bodies; the injured were still being ferried to the hospital wing two at a time. Sage was directing the cleanup efforts from the parapets. Harry joined the ancient elf on the battlements.

"Now that you're all free, will you be staying with your human families?"

"No Harry Potter, our enslavement was a curse and far too many of us have had very unpleasant captivities. It's best that we just go away."

"What will you do now; where will you all go?"

Sage smiled "We shall build ships and sail into the sunset. When we reach the point where the sun meets the sea we will be in the western lands, the enchanted domain where only elves may dwell, indeed, it is the place from which the first elves ventured forth to discover the human world."

"Um, Sage; you'll never reach the point where 'the sun meets the sea,' the sun is like a hundred and fifty million kilometers away from us off in space."

Sage smiled again, "as with so many things magical the place of which we speak is metaphorical, we will be drawn to a certain part of the ocean where we will be transported to the world of our origins."

The old elf looked pensive for a moment, "of course, some humans have been known to find the portal; I believe it is sometimes known as the 'Bermuda Triangle.'"

Back in the great hall a general feeling of optimism began to permeate the air; the dementor effect seemed to be dissipating. So it was quite a shock to see a lone dementor hovering just outside the main doors.

"Now, everyone!" cried Amanda Stevens, "_lumos!_"

Two dozen powerful narrow beams of light struck the dementor, which screeched in pain before flying down the hall then out an open window to disappear into the darkness.

Neville was taken completely by surprise, both by the appearance of the single dementor, and by the quick action of the first years.

"Well done! Well done all of you he said to the assembled first years. I'm going to see to it that you all get special awards for services to the school!"

"Was Mandy whot done it" said a small sandy haired boy.

"Twas' the Professor here whot taught me!" Amanda countered, looking at Neville with adoring eyes.

"I'm not a professor; I'm just Neville, Neville Longbottom"

"You'll always be the Professor ta' me, Neville."

Neville smiled and thought about a group of first years going up against an unspeakable evil, and remembered some of the stories about Harry and Hermione and Ron in their first year. He opened his arms and little Amanda ran to hug him around his middle. As he hugged her back he considered the events of the day, the deaths, the worse than deaths, the endings of some friendships and the beginnings of others.

He thought about the odd behavior of the lone dementor hovering just outside the entrance to the great hall.

ooo000ooo

Author's note: think that about wraps up this story? Guess again, remember the title? Expect a surprise or two in the next chapter. N!


	7. Chapter 7: Tribulations and Trials

Chapter 7: Tribulations and Trials

The sun was just breaking over the mountains to the southeast as a very weary Harry and Hermione walked into the great hall, which had been converted to a field hospital. Gone were the tables and benches; in their places were rows upon rows of hospital beds with patients being tended to by a small army of Healers and Nurses. The early morning light streaming in through the windows gave the scene an eerie feeling of tranquility.

"H-Harrry" a faltering voice called out. He looked down to see Sergeant Barlongo, her face a mass of bruises, "is it true Harry; is he gone?"

Harry nodded.

"Good" the sergeant said, and closed her eyes to rest.

Harry scanned the beds, seeing too many familiar faces.

"Harry's here!" a hoarse voice shouted. Then a single patient began to clap. He was joined by many others and soon the entire great hall was a cacophony of cheering, whistling and applauding.

Harry's face was hot, he was proud to the core of his being, not because of anything he did, but because of what all these brave souls had done. They had stood beside him, even when there was no hope of victory, and fought until they could not fight any more.

"Shouldn't they lie quietly" Harry asked a nearby healer.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter, not at all; best medicine in the world right here!"

Calls of 'speech, speech!' echoed through the hall; and Harry allowed himself to be led to the raised area where the teacher's tables would normally have been found. He stepped gingerly around the large cauldrons of potions brewing there.

The hall quieted as he faced the rows of wounded. He had no idea what to say, so he said so.

"I have no idea what to say, so this will likely be short."

Chuckles and spatters of applause.

"I do know that I'll never forget today. I will never forget how, on this day, you stood up to three hundred death-eaters and three times that many dementors and, with the help of some very good friends, beat em'!"

Applause and cheers.

I know I'll never forget today, and neither should any of you, tell your friends, your family, tell the world never again, _never again_ will we allow our peace, our world to be threatened by any so-called dark lord. Tom Riddle was just a man, a bigot with power who should never have been allowed to become the threat that he did. We elect our leaders right?

A resounding "right!" echoed through the hall.

Then elect leaders who will serve our community, not just their own selfish interests!

"Harry Potter for PM!" shouted one patient, to cheers of approval from all the others.

Harry smiled and waved for silence, "no, I am no politician, but whoever does run will be under the watchful eyes of the Order and the DA, right?"

"Right!"

"Let the ministry know, we will not stand idly by and let things continue as they have, we will have proper representation, proper laws, and proper enforcement!"

At just that time the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, entered the great hall. Which became very quiet.

"Harry, if I may?" the minister asked.

Harry nodded and gave the minister the floor.

"First off, I have to say, well done all!"

There was a flash from a photographer's camera, which exploded when Scrimgeour leveled his wand at it.

"Sorry about that, Harry, everyone" he said wincing, "comes with the territory I'm afraid, every word out of the MoM's mouth is newsworthy. Well I for one refuse to use this as an opportunity for political capitol."

Harry's respect for the man skyrocketed at that point.

The Minister continued "good people died today, and thirty seven Hogwart's defenders are as good as dead, kissed by dementors. As of this moment Great Britain is no longer a dementor-friendly zone – those soul-sucking demons are to be treated as the pariahs they are. No good ever came from employing them and this administration will not perpetuate the disastrous policies of the previous one."

Applause from the hospital beds.

"Mister Potter said it best, never again! We will not tolerate the actions of terrorist cells with delusions of grandeur. The next wizard or witch who tries to take on the mantle of dark mage will do so at their own peril, their own _mortal_ peril!"

Greater applause from the great hall.

"All those who fought today will be recognized forever as the Champions of Hogwart's, and will be asked to wear the Hogwart's crest on the lapels of their robes or clothes so that all may know that we stood here today holding the line against evil while the rest of the wizarding world hid beneath their beds."

Applause

"As positions open in this administration they will be filled with the most qualified people, but you champions will be given preferred status by virtue of your actions here today. And any organization that does business with the Ministry of Magic or Her Majesty's government must, by law, follow the same guidelines!"

More applause

"Those whom Sergeant's Barlongo or Weatherford have certified may report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at your earliest convenience to begin your careers as aurors, welcome aboard erks!"

Applause punctuated by laughter

A lone voice called up from the back row "what about Jonesey and Cattral?"

The MoM's face fell.

"They didn't make it son, I'm sorry. But rest assured, their fine work in training you lot to be the fighting machines you are was duly recorded in the office of the DMLE as well!"

The hall grew quiet again.

"The freedoms we enjoy today have been bought at a terrible price, we will never forget that!"

No applause, but murmurs of assent throughout the great hall.

"I've taken up too much of your time, as your commander in chief I leave you with one order, get well soon . . ."

The leonid man winked at Harry and continued, ". . . cause we're gonna' have one _hell_ of a party as soon as you do!"

Cheers all around

As he was preparing to leave the hall the MoM pulled Harry aside "when you get a chance, we need to talk, all right son?"

"Sure thing . . . _dad_."

Scrimgeour looked shocked for just a moment, and then chuckled; "cheeky git" clapped Harry on the shoulder and limped away.

Harry called to one of the healers and asked, "Who is in the worst shape here?"

He was escorted to a bed where a young auror lay; he had been made as comfortable as possible and given a sleeping potion then left with a single nurse in attendance. Not for any lack of care or concern for the young man, but his injuries were so extensive there seemed little that could be done.

"He's resting quietly," the healer said, "that's all we can hope for." The healer rubbed his eyes and continued, "We can mend or replace every broken bone in his body, but there is just too much soft tissue damage. His internal organs have been essentially liquefied; he only has half of one working lung to keep on with. It's amazing he's hung on as long as he has."

"What's his name?"

"Pierce, Randall Pierce, he's a 'probie,' just out of auror training," he brightened as he said "as are you I hear, congratulations Mr. Potter."

"Harry, just Harry please" he said as he concentrated on Auror Pierce's wounds. Holding the Ravenclaw stone allowed Harry to 'see' the internal injuries and the healer was right, his insides looked like so much goo.

Randy Pierce was out on his boat, as usual, looking through its glass underside at the sandy bottom trying to spot some good lobstering spots. He saw what looked like a jumble of flat rocks stacked helter-skelter on the sea-bed at a depth of about 6 meters. He dropped the anchor and slipped on his fins before donning his mask. He simply stepped off the back of the boat and pointed his head down kicking with long efficient strokes to have a look at the promising site. He'd just equalized the pressure in his ears for the second time when he heard a soft, feminine voice.

"Randy"

He looked around and saw a beautiful young woman with chestnut brown hair wreathing her face.

"Hello Randy"

"Hello" he answered before he realized he shouldn't be able to talk underwater, "I _am_ dreaming aren't I?"

"Yes you are, and I need you to tell someone something as soon as you wake up, alright?"

"Um, sure?"

"Good answer" the young girl laughed.

Randy noticed that the young woman had become a twelve year old girl with frizzy hair and a slight overbite.

She looked far too serious for one as young as she said "Friendship and bravery, alright Mr. Pierce? Just tell him friendship and bravery."

Harry lifted the stone from the young auror's chest and used its properties to look again at what had been massive thoracic trauma.

"What d'you think healer?"

"As the healer waved his wand and peered through his crystal he was flabbergasted, he's gonna make it, sweet Merlin on a bike, he's gonna pull through!"

"Take me to the next worse case."

As the healer began to walk away Harry felt a cold hand grab his wrist. He turned quickly; ready to hex someone when he saw Auror Pierce staring into his eyes.

"Friendship and bravery" he said, very clearly, "friendship and bravery."

Harry was taken aback at the statement; he remembered hearing it so many years before.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked, but the auror had already gone back to his healing sleep.

No one noticed the dark shape of the dementor as it sank into the floor, returning to the kitchens through the vent just beneath the young auror's bed.

Harry took the Founder's Jewel to the worst of the casualties and was able to affect a cure, or at least significant improvement in every case. He asked about the dementor-kissed and was led to a large classroom where about three dozen men and women sat, or lay or walked about aimlessly. Some of them had terrible wounds from spellfire but seemed not to feel any pain.

"Poor sods," said the young healer bearing a name tag that read 'Jones.' His voice, heavy with sadness, continued "truly better off dead."

Hermione opened the door and called softly "Harry?"

"I don't think we need to whisper here Hermione, I don't think any of these guys care if we make any noise."

Hermione looked at the vacant expressions of the people in the room and a single tear rolled down her face.

"I had a granddad, he was fun and funny and oh so smart and one day he went away."

Harry looked up from the last of the injured soul-robbed casualties "he died, I'm sorry."

"No, he didn't die. He had a stroke, which left him in a state like – like . . ."

Harry stood and gathered Hermione into his arms.

"It's not fair," she sobbed, "they didn't deserve this, oh god Harry, don't let me become like this, please, I'd prefer living in a bathroom for fifty years as a ghost to this . . ."

Harry thought for a moment, "Myrtle?"

"Yes?"

Harry looked confused for a moment, "no, I mean I'd like to find Myrtle. It was her idea to possess the inferi. If I could I'd pin a medal on that sweet little specter, she really came through for us today."

Hermione smiled and wiped the tears from her face, "she'll be glad to hear that . . . Ron?"

Harry turned and saw Ron Weasley shuffle toward them. He stopped in front of them and stared past them at a window.

"Ron?" he whispered.

The boy that had been Ron Weasley looked at Harry, groaned, and then loudly fouled his pants.

The healer came over and performed a cleaning spell on Ron and his clothing before the smell became too overpowering.

"I'm afraid that's about all they can do," the healer said by way of apology "it's a full time job just keeping this lot provided for; y'know, feeding and cleaning and the like.

"Isn't there anything we can do for them?" Hermione asked.

"I'm afraid not Miss, just keep em' fed and cleaned until they just . . . stop."

"How long before that happens?" Harry asked.

"Depends, sometimes they just last a few days, sometimes a lot longer. There's a story 'bout a KPoA, y'know, 'Kissed Prisoner of Azkaban,' anyway the story goes he kept goin' for almost thirty years before he just, well, realized he was dead and just laid down."

"If they got their souls back . . ." Hermione began.

"Never happens" the healer interrupted. The soul's in a dementor, and near as we can tell they feed on souls, they absorb the soul or 'life force' or consciousness or whatever you want to call it and that's that."

"Surely these people can be rehabilitated?" Harry argued, "They're not brain damaged, just brain drained, right?"

"Technically, that's true" the healer conceded, "but the real curse of the 'kiss' is that it also steals a person's will to live."

Another voice called from the door, "then I'll become their will, Healer Jones."

Harry spun toward the door and said "Ginny?"

Ginevra Weasley entered, her head shaven, she wore what looked like black and white striped pajamas under a thin grey cloak. Her scalp was still red from Dean's spellfire, but it didn't look as though it would scar.

"Yes Mr. Potter, but please excuse me, I'm required to report to Healer Jones."

"So they went for it did they?"

"Yes Healer, I will be responsible for the Kissed who were not marked by the Dark Lord."

"And your magic?" the healer asked.

"My magic has been bound to the purpose of caring for the Kissed."

"And the death eaters who have been kissed?" Harry asked.

Ginevra winced "your Israelites have already transported them to Azkaban, where they will be looked after in the usual manner."

Harry was thoughtful, "seems to me there should be no difference between any of those who have been dementor kissed. The death eaters are going to suffer but will have no memories of why they are being punished; seems pretty pointless to me."

The youngest Weasley squeezed tears from her eyes and whispered "Harry, please convince the Wizengamot. I tried to tell them but my voice counts for less than nothing now. But _you_, you killed the Dark Lord, they'll _listen_ to you."

She took her brother's arm and led him to a chair where she began to speak very softly, as if to a baby, "hello Ron, can you say Ron? It's Ginny, Ron; we're going to make you better." She continued in that vein as Harry led Hermione from the room.

"Healer Jones?"

The young healer looked up from his clipboard.

"What was that about in there?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah" Jones replied, "I was working on her burns, we had to shave her head to treat her scalp properly, you know."

Harry nodded.

While we were working on her injuries I was commenting to the attending nurse that it was a shame that we were going to have to commit nurses to care for the Kissed when they were so desperately needed elsewhere and our patient up and asks "Why not me?"

"Why not you what?"

"Why not let me take care of the Kissed, it can't be that much different from child minding and I've done that."

"So I used a quik-quill™ to take dictation which I sent off to the Wizengamot proposing to allow Ginevra Weasley to be committed to community service with the Kissed rather than have her languishing in a cell in Azkaban. Apparently they went for it, she's in the uniform of a 'trustie' and she's already working with the Kissed."

"That was fast, no trial?"

"Not when the accused suggests his or in this case _her_ own sentence and that sentence if deemed acceptable by the High Court."

"What about Draco Malfoy?"

The healer shrugged, "don't know the gentleman."

"He's no gentleman, but I have to say something at his trial, he gave us the break that defeated the dementors. Without him we'd all be like this lot in here, but without anyone to care for us."

"If you're going to do it you'd best go now, the trials are going on even as we speak."

He spied a familiar pointed hat from across the great hall and shouted "Headmistress McGonagall!"

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"May I use your floo to get to the Ministry building?"

"Of course, do you remember the way?"

"Yes ma'am, thank you professor."

He turned to call for Hermione and saw her asleep in a chair where she had sat just a moment before to 'rest her feet a bit.'

He touched his forehead to hers and said softly, "get some rest, I'll find you when I get back."

He ran to the gargoyles both of which slid out of his way without incident.

"Thanks" he said as he ascended the spiral stair.

"Yur welcome" a gravely voice replied.

Harry grabbed a handful of powder and flung it into the fireplace called to the flames "Ministry of Magic" and stepped through.

He spun out of the fireplace in the lobby of the ministry building and ran to the security desk to present his wand.

"Please go in Mr. Potter, as a qualified auror you have unlimited access."

Harry nodded and ran to the lift.

"Floor please?" came the pleasant female voice.

"Wherever the death eater trials are being held" he said shortly.

"Tenth floor then."

The lift was agonizingly slow to descend but eventually clanked to a halt.

Harry ran down the now familiar corridor and burst through the double doors.

The scene below was also familiar, the chair, the chains, the full gallery of purple robed judges. The prisoner in the chair was barely conscious, his chin lolling on his chest, the half singed platinum blond hair unmistakable.

Harry nearly spat the name "Malfoy!"

Those nearest Harry looked up in shock as the once again hero of the wizarding world stood at the top of the stair. One by one they stood and began to applaud. Harry descended the steps leading to the prisoner's chair. As other members of the wizengamot noticed the young wizard they also stood to applaud. Draco raised his head and focused on the object of everyone's adoration, his one good eye squinting in the harsh light. He didn't really recognize Harry until he was nearly standing next to him.

In a clear voice Harry called out "Members of the Wizengamot, who represents this man?"

A short, plump, haggard looking gentleman waddled up to the witness chair and said "Cyrano Cuthridge, Mr. Potter, Public Defender."

"Doesn't the Malfoy family have a law firm on retainer?"

"I'm afraid that law firm has been disbarred."

"Can the defendant have a change of venue to allow his council to prepare a proper defense?"

"I am his council, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy has already submitted his plea; _nolo_ _contendo_, no contest."

"May I speak for the accused Mr. Cuthridge?"

"Well, this is highly irregular, but please proceed Mr. Potter."

"Potter" Draco croaked, "don't do this, just let it be."

"I can't Draco," Harry smirked, "that'd be too easy."

"Before you pass judgment on this man, may I speak on his behalf?"

The Supreme Mugwump and Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot gestured, palm up, for Harry to continue.

"You see before you one of the worst examples of pureblood supremacists it has ever been my displeasure to know. He has gleefully assaulted me, my friends and anyone who didn't spout the same racist, purist tripe that he did. He took the dark mark while still a student at my school and made it possible for that school to be invaded by Voldemort's death eaters last year."

"Please Potter, stop _helping_ me!" the blond boy rasped.

"In the past two months he had repeatedly sexually assaulted another friend of mine, who was forced, under great duress to accept the dark mark as well."

"Why don't you just kick me through the veil now and be done with it Potter?" Draco hissed.

"Just one thing, though, and this is very important. If Draco hadn't passed on vital information to the defenders of Hogwart's we would have been overrun by dementors, and instead of sitting in judgment of this man, you would be having your own last stand against those soul-sucking bastards!"

"Jeezus Potter, you just had to do it didn't you?" Draco coughed up blood, and Harry was by his side the healing stone in his hand.

"Draco, you're all busted up inside, why are you here when you should be in a hospital bed?"

"Because aurors figured I'd just be a waste of resources, I'm going to be put through the veil in a few minutes so it won't matter."

Harry stood, eyes blazing and demanded "Members of the Wizengamot, who brought this man here in this condition?"

Shuffling of papers ensued, and the clerk announced "aurors Dawlish and Hart."

"Is it the policy of the Wizengamot to place a man on trial who could very well _die_ before the proceedings conclude?"

"No Mr. Potter, it is not" the Wizengamot's Chief Judge narrowed his gaze at a spot reserved for MDLE witnesses.

"May we please place Mr. Malfoy in medical custody until such time that he may be found fit to stand trial?"

The Judge struck the dais with his staff and intoned, "So mote it be, Mr. Malfoy will be remanded to St. Mungo's criminal ward until he is cleared fit to stand trial by a _competent_ medical authority. Court is recessed for a period of two hours, Mr. Dawlish, Mr. Hart; I will see you in my chambers immediately."

Two aurors approached the witness chair "we'll take him from here Mr. Potter."

"Half a tick, please" Harry said as he moved the healing stone over the worst of Draco's injuries, "you wouldn't want him to die on you before you could get him to St. Mungo's would you?"

Both aurors nodded their thanks. They were evidently more professional or perhaps a bit more compassionate than the two that had brought the burned and bleeding Malfoy in.

Harry turned to see Dawlish and Hart leaving the judges' chamber looking thoroughly cowed, followed closely by the Wizengamot's Chief Justice.

"Sir, um, your honor?" Harry called out in a half whisper, half shout.

The judge recognized Harry and strolled over to take his hand, "very good to meet you at last Mr. Potter, although I have seen you here and about, we've never been introduced, I'm Alfred Vance, I believe you've met my granddaughter, Emeline?"

"Yes sir, member of the Order, is she, um, is she okay sir?"

"Oh yes, she was on the battlements with some of the aurors, they all tell me you acquitted yourself very well young man, very well indeed."

"Thank you sir," then changing the subject, slightly, Harry asked "what will become of Draco Malfoy?"

"My personal opinion or my legal opinion?"

"Both, either; whichever you're willing to share sir."

The old barrister looked thoughtful, "nothing good I'm afraid, he's a marked death eater and you know what that means?"

Harry nodded.

"He has blood on his hands, and is legally culpable for the death of the former Wizengamot Chief, you understand?" seeing Harry nod, he continued "add to that the accusations of other death eaters today and Mr. Malfoy is in a very bad light. Essentially he had one foot in the veil before you gave us our impromptu recess, now he will either face a lifetime in Azkaban or a very short life as I understand the young woman he's been sexually abusing this summer has a father and six brothers?"

"Five living, sir, and one who was kissed" Harry explained.

"So that's six male family members who can, at any time, legally call out Mr. Malfoy to settle the issue of rape."

"By dueling sir?" Harry asked.

"No Harry, public flogging followed by castration" the judge clarified.

ooo000

Author's note: "Erk" is a Briticism for rookie.


	8. Chapter 8: Coming Together at Last

Chapter 8: Coming Together at Last

"Public flogging? Castration? Isn't that, um - forgive me Judge Vance, but isn't that, um, medieval?" Harry asked.

"If by that you mean 'barbaric,' then yes, I'd have to agree." Vance answered. "Remember Harry, in a magical community such as ours it's all too easy for a young man to take whatever he wants from a girl - or a boy for that matter. Love potions, _imperius_ curses, even the casual use of memory charms can get the man whatever he wants. Once the crime is discovered, the culprit faces the wrath of the victim's family. As a father and a grandfather I can tell you that I would have no compunction about meting out justice to someone who raped a member of my family."

Harry nodded, thinking he could begin to understand; the judge knew it was difficult.

"Harry, you've grown up mostly in the muggle world, yes? It may surprise you to know that I spent over thirty years before the bar in the Bailey in London."

Harry was surprised that a magical justice would have such an extensive muggle resume.

"In a case like Malfoy's it would have taken a minimum of two years before it could have been adjudicated; two years, during which time solicitors and barristers would have done all they could to get the case thrown out on some technicality, or the accuser would have had to produce testimony before hostile witnesses for the defense."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "I've seen that on the telly."

"Well, sometimes even the BBC gets it right. Point is, magical justice is swift, too swift at times, and wartime rules apply here, which means a culprit can be arrested in the morning and begin his sentence by mid-afternoon. This time around we are making sure every one of those accused receives a trial by the judicial arm of the Wizengamot."

Harry was reminded of his godfather's imprisonment without a trial within hours of his alleged crime.

"But very effective. Son, there are very real consequences for actions taken in our world, and all who live here must accept that. Mr. Malfoy chose his fate the moment he forced himself on his victim."

"These are things that a muggleborn or muggle-raised witch or wizard needs to know," Harry mused, "I wonder why there are no orientation classes for us when we first arrive in Hogwarts? I mean having a muggleborn take a class called 'Muggle Studies' is next to useless, right?"

"Harry, I'm just on my way to dinner. Join me? It'll give us a chance to talk more."

"Happy to sir. Um, where are we going?"

"Number Five Cavendish Square, Oxford Circus. You have your apparations license, yes? Good, good."

They arrived at a ministry designated apparation point just behind Number Five. Judge Vance had the roasted black cod with steamed wild rice and scallops and Harry had the rack of lamb with braised augergines, polenta and black truffle. After dinner they settled back over a nice cup of tea.

"Judge Vance, can we talk about the Kissed?" Harry asked.

"Yes, tragic thing that, all those defenders . . ."

"Yes sir. I understand you sentenced Ginny Weasley to care for them."

"Yes, it was her own idea, and I found that she had not willingly taken the mark, but she did _have_ it so my choices were somewhat limited. She gave me a way to keep her out of Azkaban, and for that I'm grateful."

"Sir, she and I have an idea concerning the Death Eaters who were kissed."

The judge's eyebrows went up to his hairline.

"If I understand correctly, a person who has been dementor-kissed is well, like a blank slate, right?"

The judge nodded.

"So, why send them to Azkaban?"

The judge seemed to ponder. "Y'know Harry, you're not the first person to have suggested this, but in the past the crimes of the Kissed have been so numerous and so heinous that the public demanded life sentences on top of the Kiss. But if you're not averse to using your current celebrity status . . ."

"If you think I can help in this I will, sir."

"Well the judiciary session of the Wizengamot will be in session for the remainder of this week. Beginning Monday, we will begin the Legislative session and at that time you may present your arguments on behalf of the Kissed of Azkaban."

"Thank you sir," Harry said as they both got up to leave. "Can you tell me where I can find Miss Weasley? I'd like for her to help me prepare my arguments."

"She'll be in a holding cell in the criminal ward of St. Mungo's when she's not tending to the kissed."

As Harry walked from the ministry building toward Diagon Alley that evening he witnessed celebrations of the likes he'd never seen before. Shooting stars, fireworks in general, spontaneous parties and general merrymaking were the order of the day - or rather the night. The jubilation over the _final_ solution to the Voldemort problem combined with the sudden disappearance of the dementors meant that everyone, wizard and muggle alike, felt really good for the first time in nearly a year. The bleak mood that had gripped the country since the previous summer was broken.

Harry almost hexed a nurse when she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and roundly kissed him in the middle of High Street. When they came up for air, the pretty nurse said, "War's finally over darlin', now lets get on with the livin'!"

He chuckled at that as he passed through the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He had no sooner entered the pub when he had a tall glass of stout thrust into his hands by none other than Tom the barman who said, "Tonight, drinks are on the house!"

No one seemed to notice that Harry Potter himself - the Once Again Savior of the Wizarding World - was in their midst and he was all right with that. With his slightly longer hair hiding his scar and his lack of glasses – apparently Lady Ravenclaw's jewel had healed his eyes – he was enjoying a bit of anonymity. He found himself wondering where that pretty nurse had gone off to.

So it was after tipping a few pints in the pub that Harry, who looked a little like Harry Potter but that was just a co-ink-a-dink, um, co-in-sa-, um just one of those things; anyway Harry stumbled into the Alley to an even bigger, more raucous party going on in the street. The Weasley twins seemed to have emptied their stock of fireworks as Roman candles, rockets, pinwheels, Catherine's wheels and seriously persistent sparklers were lighting the streets of Diagon Alley to the joy and general merriment of all.

This was a world that had stood on the brink of oblivion; now there were celebrations of life going on all around them. The Weasleys were celebrating the engagement of George and Padma; Fred was seriously chatting up Parvati, looking like he was about to go down on one knee at any moment. Neither Suman nor Abhilasha Patil seemed thrilled but their daughters had politely refused their Indian suitors and, in truth, could find no good reason for not adding the Weasleys to the Patil bloodline. Love was definitely in the air, and people were pairing off and disappearing to wherever people disappear to when they want to get to know each other better.

Harry saw soft curves and bright eyes all around him, and he'd been chatted up by a continuous stream of hopefuls who asked if he was indeed the famous Harry Potter. He apologized for his accidental resemblance and turned to the next hopeful only to be lost in chestnut brown eyes and a full head of bushy brunette hair.

"Har-"

Harry shushed his bushy haired best friend and said, "Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong guy. I just look a bit like him, I've been told."

"Thas' okay, someone said I look just like that Granger girl, s' funny innit?" she said with a conspiratorial wink.

Harry focused on the girl through his inebriated eyes and swore the resemblance was uncanny.

"Um, why don't we get away from all this noise and find out who we are?"

"Sounds great to me," Harry agreed.

They passed out of Diagon Alley and stumbled, mostly from trying to support each other, through the Leaky Cauldron.

"Steady on there, now there's a happy couple, have a drink, here's to youth and romance and all that goes with it, drink up, drink up. . ."

They stumbled out the door onto the equally raucous London street and one of them, they weren't quite sure, stuck out his or her wand, or maybe it was each other's wands. Well anyway, the Knight Bus banged into existence, screeching to a halt sideways at the entrance to the cauldron.

"Ernie, are you okay t' drive?"

"Course I am, haven't touched a drop, but not too many other folks are abstainin' just now. Takin' your life in your hands t' be on the road tonight!"

"Press on mate, press on . . . Stan?"

Stan Shunpike was grinning from ear to ear. "Yep, tis' meself. Back on the bus with more'n a years worth of back pay burnin' a hole in me pocket!"

He assisted the young couple onto the bus and said, "Where to?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Grim Old Place, um number eleven or thirteen or sumat."

"Grimauld place it is, take er' away Ernie!"

With a bang and several crashes (from the sound of several dustbins literally jumping out of the triple-decker's path) the Knight Bus gamboled into the night.

The bus came to an almost sane stop in front of Number Eleven and Stan called out, "Grimauld Place!"

The young couple stepped carefully off the steps, trying to appear composed and sober, but when the brunette stumbled on the cobblestone street and fell against Harry, they both snorted in the beginnings of a snorting, chortling jag.

"Number Twelve Grimauld Place!" Harry called out and the townhouse appeared, elbowing numbers ten and fourteen out of the way as it settled itself comfortably between them. It took three tries before the besotted couple could make it to the top of the four steps and the landing. They burst through the front door and nearly knocked over the little old man who was standing just behind the door. They were about to apologize when the man faded from sight and the mirth descended upon them anew.

Harry and his curly haired companion laughed themselves out and found that they were nose to nose. She was backed up against the wall while he had a hand on either side of her head, leaning in toward her flushed face. She cupped his hands in her own and whispered a brief incantation that made him feel very warm, very _welcome_. He thought he could easily get lost in those deep brown eyes as they gravitated toward each other. Their lips touched, soft and moist, then she plastered her soft warm body against his and pressed her lips tightly against his. He touched the tip of his tongue to her lips, seeking entry and she parted her lips slightly so that he could touch her teeth with the tip of his tongue. She opened herself up further and soon they were tongue wrestling as she worked the buttons on his shirt. She made a frantic noise as the buttons frustrated her and she simply pulled the shirt open popping half the buttons in her impatience to feel skin.

His left hand was in her hair, reveling in the softness there while his right hand caressed her back and side. She pulled her shirttail out of her skirt and directed his hand under the fabric, placing it on the underside of her sheer bra.

"I don't think," he started to say when she stopped him with a quick passionate kiss.

"Don't think, feel," she insisted as she brought his other hand down to rest on her other breast and then proceeded to try to find his tonsils.

She pulled back just long enough to say, "Bedroom, _now!_"

He picked her up and nearly ran to the second floor master where he placed her gently down on the king-sized mattress. Neither one saw the door close silently behind them. Nor did either one of them register that the room was lit by the soft light of the Ever-Lit™ candles. They only had eyes, lips, fingertips and tongues for each other.

"I love you Herm – mumph," he said as she kissed him roundly.

"I will always love you Harry," she countered.

She was lying atop him, her head over his left shoulder breathing heavily against his neck while his hand roamed over her back, coming to rest on her bum. She thrust her hips against him eliciting an impressive response as 'little Harry' rose to the occasion.

They both groaned at the sensations. Harry found the button and zipper on the side of her skirt and was able unfasten then unzip same which allowed him to push the skirt over her knickers-clad bum. The sensible cotton briefs were soft to his touch and he massaged her nicely rounded buttocks for a while as she continued to grind against him. She groaned again as he slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband to caress her warm, pliant skin.

"Don't move my love," she insisted as she rolled off him so that she could divest herself of her skirt and knickers. She snuggled up to his side so that she could trace his hardness through his trousers. She unbuttoned then unzipped the interfering garment then tugged at the sides of his boxers and slacks. He got the hint and bowed slightly up so that she could clear his bum and free his rather impressive erection from its durance vile.

They were both more than a little impatient so the concept of unlacing shoes escaped them. Oh well, all she _really_ needed to do was to pull him over her – his legs could stay together, _hers_ needed room to spread.

With one smooth movement she slid her leg over his recumbent form and straddled his waist. She had to raise up as high as she could on her knees to place the tip of his member at her entrance, then she pushed back.

She realized that this was what she had been living for from the time she first saw him, to join their hearts, their bodies, their magic. She squeezed his length with the muscles of her abdomen as she rose up, then came crashing down on him again and again and again.

The simultaneous release of hormones, adoration and soul-binding enchantments overwhelmed them, and she leaned forward to lie comfortably on his chest and began to snore daintily.

Thus it was the next morning that the young couple found themselves, naked from the waist down, still joined.

The folded duvet at the base of the bed unfolded itself to gently cover the two lovers as a sound, as from someone clearing his throat came from the open doorway.

They both froze. Harry looked quizzically at a small old man in a well tailored butler's uniform.

"I'm sorry, sir, miss," the old elf started, "but can you tell me who the master of this house is?"

"Um, that would be me," the bewildered teen answered.

"Very well sir, I am directed to give you this," and the old butler placed a sealed envelope on the night stand. "I shall be waiting in the dining room, keeping your breakfasts warm."

Harry looked at his lover and said, "Hermione?"

"Um, hum," she murmured.

"Are you, um, all right with this?"

"Less talk, more fuck," she insisted as her hips drove down and backward.

Harry's conscience was by then effectively torpedoed by her warm, slick, wet insistence and all he wanted to do was comply.

He threw off the duvet, flipped her onto her back and laughed at the state of his undress, shirt torn open, pants down around his knees, shoes still on, while she looked fully dressed in her proper white starched blouse until his eyes traveled down to where they were both naked below the waist and joined as they had been all night.

Balancing on one arm Harry unbuttoned the blouse to expose Hermione's simple white bra. She looked so beautiful that he leaned down and kissed her as he began to thrust in earnest.

"Oh yes!" she screamed "right there, do that, oh Gawd! Oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck meeeeeee!"

He collapsed on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows and together they began to laugh.

After a few minutes he rose up on both arms and smirked. "Who would have thought such a prim, proper, studious girl could talk so _dirty_?"

She grinned in return and said "It worked, didn't it.

"Hermione, my 'Mione, I can swear a wizard's oath that I've never felt the like before." He looked a little abashed, "I only hope you were able to get off at least a little."

"No worries there Harry, but you have to tell me her name so I can thank her."

"Who?"

"Who ever it was that taught you to make love like a stallion!"

"Um, her name is Hermione Jane Granger."

She looked incredulous, "You don't have to tell me that. It's none of my business who you've been sleeping, or rather not sleeping with."

"I swear by my magic that you are my first."

"Harry!"

A blue light surrounded him and was instantly absorbed back into his magical core.

"What?"

She frantically scrambled for her wand, or better yet, his wand. She was just able to reach it on the night stand and handed it to him.

"Cast a spell, quick!"

"Um, _accio_ buttons."

The missing buttons on his shirt flew from the tiny space under the bedroom door and into his outstretched hand.

"Harry, don't you dare swear on your magic for something like that! What if one of those round-heels at school had gotten to you already, then obliviated you? You would be a squib now!"

"I didn't think of that."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll always believe you Harry. You don't have to swear to me, ever!"

"Made my point though, din't I?"

"Yes you did. I'm sorry you thought I doubted you." She looked deep into his eyes. "I really _am_ your first, and you just about wore me out. I can see I'm going to need to get into shape - when you get a bit more practice in I may not survive it!"

"Are you hungry at all?" he asked.

"Oh, I think you've filled me quite nicely, thank you."

"I mean food."

"What, never heard of livin' on love?"

"I do, y'know," he said.

"What's that, Harry?" she asked, and then let out a startled gasp as she looked into his eyes and saw the depth of feeling there.

"I love you," he said, simply, sincerely, honestly.

"And I meant it when I said I'll always love you, Harry."

He rolled off her and for the first time since their first time he withdrew from her, eliciting a disappointed groan from his lover.

"You sound like someone just took your kitten away," he smirked.

"No, your kitty is just disappointed that you've left her."

"My kitty?"

"Sounds so much nicer than pussy" she smirked, then groaned. "Can you _accio_ a couple of flannels please, I feel like I'm sloshing here."

"Funny you should say that," he laughed, lying back on his back. "You feel full and I feel drained!"

"_Accio_ wet flannel, _accio_ warm towel!"

She caught the wet and dry terry-cloths and first cleaned him before catching the remainder of his spunk in the wet flannel. Then she dried him and kissed him roundly.

"How about a shower before breakfast?"

"You go first," he said. "I'll join you in a moment."

She padded off to the shower as Harry appreciated the view - my, but she had a magnificent arse!

He reached down to untie his shoes then removed his socks before kicking off his trousers; then, fully naked, he followed Hermione into the bathroom where the shower was already running. He grinned, thinking of her under the warm spray, all wet and soft and soapy and carefully drew back the curtain to see Hermione sitting on the floor of the shower, crying.

"Oh Harry," she wailed, "I just know I'm going to Hell!"

ooo000ooo

The scene where the nurse kisses Harry is my tip of the hat to one of the most famous kisses of the 20th century, for millions of Americans; Alfred Eisenstaedt's 1945 _LIFE_ photograph of a sailor stamping a masterly kiss on a nurse symbolized the cathartic joy of V-J Day; You just know a lot of people got lucky that day . . .

I figured turnabout was fair play so I made the lady the kisser and Harry the kissee.


	9. Chapter 9: Settling in at Grimauld Place

Chapter 9: Settling in at Grimauld Place

_He followed Hermione into the bathroom where the shower was already running. He grinned, thinking of her under the warm spray, all wet and soft and soapy. He carefully drew back the curtain to see Hermione sitting on the floor of the shower, crying._

"_Oh Harry," she wailed, "I just know I'm going to Hell!"_

He knelt down in the shower, gathered her into a wet bare hug and asked, "What have you done that's so awful that Hell has a claim on you?"

"I've loved you so long, Harry, so _long_ that I got you drunk and took advantage of you last night and now you and everyone will know I'm just a slut and a whore who tricked you into bed and now you'll hate me and – and – and . . ."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," he cooed, "You didn't get me drunk. I came to you three sheets to the wind already, and -- hey!"

"What hey?"

"We were both completely drunk last night, right?"

"Um hum," she agreed morosely.

"So why aren't we hung over?"

"Sobering charm works on hangovers too," she confessed.

"When?"

"When you kissed me in the foyer, just before you carried me up to bed."

"That means neither of us was drunk last night!"

"Which means everything we did, we wanted to do anyway. Oh Harry! It's all real, you really do love me?"

He laughed delightedly and held her close.

"Do you know when I first knew I loved you?" he asked.

"Yule Ball?" she guessed.

"Way before that, during second year," he explained "You had been petrified by the basilisk and were just lying there all frozen. It was like you were dead, hardly breathing, heart barely beating. I couldn't stand to see you like that. Madame Pomfrey promised me that you'd be all right, soon as the mandrakes were ready, but I wanted you back. It was like there was a hole in the world because you were gone. Promise me, if I tell you I did something awful, that you'll try to understand and won't hate me?" His eyes were pleading and she nodded.

"I kissed you, while you were like that; I kissed you for what seemed like hours, even though I know it couldn't have been more than five minutes."

"Was that all you did?" she asked, a little worried.

"No, nothing else. I just - I just wanted you back y'know?"

"Why the kiss?"

"Well, in stories like Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, the prince would, kiss the princess . . ." he shrugged.

"That was very sweet Harry. Now I can honestly say you were my first kiss. I just wish I could have been aware and awake to enjoy it," she smirked and then laughed out loud.

"What?"

"Well, most people don't know this because all they get is the "Disney" version of the fairy tales."

He looked puzzled.

"Well, take Snow White. She bit the poison apple and fell into a deep sleep. Along comes the 'prince' who sees a young sleeping girl and what does he do?"

"Um, kisses her?"

"Nope, fucks her brains out – and she just slept through the whole thing. Got preggers from the one time too."

Harry began to panic, "Um, are we, um, y'know . . ."

"It's okay, I'm on the potion." Her eyes twinkled. "Good thing too - you pumped enough of your stuff in me to repopulate Diagon Alley!"

"I love you Hermione. I have always loved you and I always will," he smiled as he held her at arms length, warm water cascading over both of them. "And if the devil himself comes to take you, I'll fight him - I will storm the gates of Hell to bring you back to me, my Hermione!"

She cried and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck "I love you Harry. Never, ever doubt that!"

He wrapped his arms around her and cooed, "My 'Mione, my 'Mione, it's all right, it's all right, you're here and that's all that matters."

He helped her to stand then stood back a half-step so that he could look at her. Her breasts were 'B' cups with fairly large areolas, her waist waspish giving her a nice hourglass figure. Her bushy hair was repeated at her pubis, and like the hair on her head was very soft.

"Like what you see Mr. Potter?" she smirked.

"Nope" he said decisively, and was amused by her crestfallen expression. "Nope, don't like it. I _love_ it more than anything else in the world!"

"Ooooooh, you're going to 'get it' for that mister!"

"Promise?" It was his turn to smirk.

"Promise." She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him roundly.

It's a very good thing the water in the shower was charmed to stay warm, otherwise the amount of time they spent there 'getting it' would have used up all the water in a conventional water heater - about three homes worth of hot water.

Eventually the squeaky clean couple stepped out of the shower and had fun drying each other off. As they walked back into the bedroom with their towels wrapped around them, they saw that dressing gowns were laid out on the bed, one for each of them.

"You seem to have a butler, Harry," she observed.

"Um, yes," he agreed as he picked up the envelope from the nightstand. He broke the wax seal and read.

_Lord Potter,_

_Your house elf has been arrested, tried and sentenced by the Council of Elders. The sentence - death of personality, and a lifetime of servitude to the house that he has so grievously wronged - was carried out just after moonset on the 31st of October. This life sentence can not be commuted except by a majority of the Council of Elders and will be in effect for the mean duration of a wizard's life; seven score years and seven._

_Signed,_

_Sage, Fist among Elders_

_P.S. I know you are not familiar with our elfin judiciary. Suffice it to say that your house elf has been dealt with – his mind and all memories have been erased. His original elfin name is Meacham and his only wish will be to serve you to the best of his abilities. Like all good house elves he will be invisible and he will keep your secrets. If he survives the 147 year sentence, he will be welcomed back into elfin society. Sadly, he will probably not, for he is already quite old, even for an elf. Please treat him well; he has no memory of the wrongs he has done in his life and he was influenced by some of the darkest wizards of this past age._

_Sage,_

_Eldest of the Council of Elders_

"Meacham!" Harry called out.

The old butler appeared before them and half bowed from the waist, "Sir?"

"Will you be needing any help around the house, Meacham?"

The old elf stiffened, and for a moment Harry was afraid that he was reverting to the Kreature that he had been before the 'change.'

"I know that I am no longer a young elf, sir, but I am fully capable of carrying out my duties."

"I meant no offence Meacham, I only want you to know that you don't have to do everything around here. If you need assistance with the cooking or cleaning or building maintenance, you have only to ask."

"My body may not be as strong as it once was, sir, but I assure you my magic is undiminished." Saying that Meacham snapped his fingers and every brass surface in the room - and there were hundreds of brass fixtures in the room, including a dropped ceiling that resembled lacework - gleamed as though polished to a high shine by a million small buffers.

"My apologies Meacham. I see that you are more than capable; we will speak no more of it," Harry said very diplomatically, which seemed to placate the old elf.

"Very well sir. Will you and the lady be having breakfast now?"

"Yes, this is my lady Hermione Granger. She will be spending a lot of time here."

"Very well. Breakfast will be in the small dining room off the kitchens, sir, ma'am." Having said that, the old elf faded from sight.

"Apparently Meacham is going to be a fixture around here," Harry said then looked around, "Hey, I just noticed something."

"What?"

"Don't you remember what this place looked like two summers ago?"

"Um, don't remind me," she said, slightly hesitantly.

"This place has been cleaned from top to bottom; there isn't a speck of dust anywhere to be seen!"

"Let's go exploring right after breakfast," she suggested.

They walked down the stair to the kitchens - which were also gleaming like new - then walked into the small dining room.

"This is the _small_ dining room?" she asked.

"Yeah, the big ones just off the main entrance through here he pointed. You remember?"

"Well, quite a lot has happened since then Harry . . ."

"Tell me about it," he groused.

He held the chair out for Hermione, and then lifted the covers off the warming trays.

"Wow, kippers, bangers, toast, and scrambled eggs."

"Tea _and_ coffee!" she rejoiced. "I could get used to this!"

"No more S.P.E.W. y'know; the only house elves left will be like Meacham here, working off a debt to wizard society and maybe a few elf employees until they all head to the Western Lands." Harry mused.

"People are beginning to refer to the freed elves as the "Israelites" y'know?"

"So that's what Ginny meant when she said my Israelites had transported the prisoners; she was referring to the elves."

"You know, if the Israelites are the slaves freed from Egypt that makes you . . ."

"Don't even go there!"

"Hey - you've been the 'Boy Who Lived,' the 'Man Who Triumphed,' and now you get to be the Elfin Moses."

"I just can't get a break, can I?"

"As I understand it, some elves are already building ships; they're beautifully formed boats that look like a cross between a Phoenician sailing vessel and a swan, all rounded and sleek, with a single mast, a square sail and a spinnaker."

"I'll bet they're beautiful, I'd like to see one when it's finished."

"Y'know Harry," she said as she helped herself to a spoonful of eggs, "there will be some economic backlash to your freeing of the elves."

"Yeah, I've thought of that. The wizarding world is just going to have to do what the rest of us have been doing all along. Hire people trained in the service industries, housekeeping, cooking, gardening, and whatever else the elves took care of. I know there are some non-magical people who are familiar with the magical world, squibs and the like, who would be willing to take over for the elves. Of course, they'd have to be paid."

"And that's where the problems will come in."

"Hermione, who owned most of the house elves?"

"Um, Hogwarts, I believe."

"Yep, and now Headmistress McGonagall will be hiring people to take care of the castle. The students could be part of it too; imagine having a 'service week' where each house would be responsible for some of the things the elves have been doing - y'know, scullery, food service, maintenance. It'd be good for some of those spoiled brats to get their hands dirty from time to time; make em' appreciate what others have to do to make sure their clothes are clean and their meals are served."

"The Slytherins would never go for it."

"Then the Slytherins won't eat; let them try that one on for size!"

"D'you think Professor McGonagall will go for it?"

"Can't hurt to ask."

They thought about it for a while as they tucked in. After breakfast they carried their dishes to the sink to rinse when Meacham appeared, "Thank you sir, ma'am, but just leave the dishes. I will attend to them."

"Oh, all right Meacham, thanks."

"Quite welcome sir, ma'am."

"Ready for the cook's tour?" Harry asked.

"Lead on, good sir."

They climbed to the third floor and Harry reminded her "This is where Sirius kept Buckbeak in our fifth year." What they found was a large room with a polished hardwood floor and a wall of mirrors. Hermione squealed, "It's a studio!"

"Sorry, studio?"

"Yes, a dance studio, it must have been one before Sirius used it as a hippogriff house. Oh, it's beautiful," she enthused.

She walked over to the bar and placed her right ankle on it before bending forward to grasp it and stretch.

"You took dance lessons?"

"Yep, since I was six, then during the summers when I wasn't at school."

"I never knew! How is it that I never knew?"

"Well, a girl's got to have some secrets, now doesn't she?"

"Of course. Let's see what else."

They descended the stairs looking into the bedrooms, now spic and span and ready for someone to move in - several someone's actually - there were ten guest rooms in addition to the master were they had spent the night.

"We should christen each of the rooms!" she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

He groaned in mock petulance. "Please woman, I'm not a machine!"

She smirked and opened her dressing gown revealing the fit young body beneath.

"Okay, we'll start with this one!" he said and literally pounced on her, forcing her onto the bed.

She wrestled herself out of the robe and pulled the knot on his belt to loosen his robe. He stood and looked at her, her eyes bright in anticipation as he dropped his robe off his shoulders. She sat up and said, "Let me try something Harry, I've done a little research and I think I can do this."

She silently guided him onto the bed to lie on his back; then knelt beside him with her knees pointing toward his feet. She took a deep breath and bent down to prove that she could have a vocation in sword swallowing if all other careers became untenable . . .

"Merlin, Morgana and Maeve!" he exclaimed.

She pulled off with a loud 'pop' and asked, "You like?"

"The words haven't been invented yet that say how much I like!"

She smiled and went back to work.

It was a very smug Hermione and a very relaxed looking Harry that left the room a half-hour later.

"We'll get to the other rooms later, now I want to see the library," she said.

"Why am I not surprised? I'll bet you've read every book in Hogwarts, haven't you?"

"If they're in the library, yes!" she agreed

"Even in the Restricted Section?" he asked.

"How do you think I learned to control my gag reflex?" she smirked.

"I'm beginning to love research." He smiled in return.

They walked into the library which had a charmed ceiling to resemble a large double skylight; really a neat trick when you consider the library was on the first floor of a three story building. It was well lit and clean, with a long library table and a dozen comfortable chairs for reading, studying or just lounging with a book or magazine.

A slight moan escaped Hermione's lips as she surveyed the bookshelves. The library didn't have walls per se; it had shelves and shelves of books. And _what_ books! There were arcane tomes that covered every aspect of soul magic, blood magic, grey magic and one full wall of nothing but potions texts.

"Uh oh, I think I may have made a mistake bringing you in here," he chided.

She growled and grabbed Harry by his lapels and pulled him into a bruisingly fierce kiss, "This room, this room next, this room _now_!"

Who was he to argue he deepened the kiss and walked her backwards to the sturdy table, then lifted her up so that she sat on the table and he stood in front of her. He coaxed her legs open then looked thoughtful for just a moment.

"Half a tic, don't go away," he said as he picked a random book off the shelf. It was _Love Charms, Magical Cures and Other Practical Sorcery_. He placed the small book on the table and said "Stand here and read it, aloud."

She looked puzzled but hopped down and turned around and picked up the book to read.

"Leave the book open on the table."

She placed the book on the table, bending slightly at the waist and began to read. "_On a Friday night light a white votive candle and place it in a glass cup or in a lantern._"

As she read Harry did his best to distract her, the most distracting part was that when she stopped reading he stopped distracting.

"Don't stop reading, Hermione, and I won't stop."

At the point where he was distracting her cross-eyed the Ever-Lit candles in the library flared for a few minutes. Reading aloud was forgotten the book was forgotten; the only thing that mattered was the length and duration of their distraction.

As he came down from his latest peak, he rubbed her back and said "I love you, my 'Mione, I love you _so_ _much_!"

"Oh Harry, I was just thinking that I'd love it if we would just stay like this forever, but then I thought about trying to walk like this and . . ."

Harry saw the image in his mind's eye and guffawed at the thought.

"It's so good to hear you laugh, love!"

"I guess I have been a bit serious of late, huh?"

"Serious? You've been positively morbid! But that stops today. Fist thing we're going to do is get you some new clothes. Let's go Mr. Potter, Diagon Alley awaits!"

"Just one small problem," he said.

"What?"

"We'll have to move away from the table, go upstairs, and get dressed to go out."

"We'll just have to work on that my love. 'Tandem walking' could very well become a new sport with us!"

"Just not a spectator sport," he rejoined.

"I imagine the ratings would go right up if it were!"

"Goin' for the gold!"

They continued to laugh all the way up the stars to the master bedroom. When they got there, their day-clothes were laid out on the bed, neatly cleaned and pressed and ready for wear.

"I'll have to find some way to show Meacham how much we appreciate all he's doing around here," Harry said as he looked at his nicely repaired shirt, buttons back in place and all.

They took a very short shower together – to conserve water, of _course_ – and were soon dressed and walked downstairs hand in hand. As they neared the front door, Meacham appeared with cloaks for each of them, both bearing the Black family crest.

Harry thanked the old elf, who assured the young master of the house that it was no more than his due.

"Meacham, I've never really had a, um . . ."

"Servant?"

"Yes, a servant before. I'd like you to be happy here. Is there anything I can do to show you that I appreciate all you do here?"

"Well, sir . . ." The small man looked slightly embarrassed.

"Yes?"

"A room of my own would be very good sir, as we seem to have quite a few. I would like a room, sir."

"Whichever one you would like, consider it yours."

"Thank you sir," he said, and for the first time - possibly since he was an elfin child - the little man smiled.

"We'll be out all day Meacham, so you don't have to worry about lunch. Can we have shepherd's pie for supper?"

"Of course sir; will seven o'clock be acceptable sir?"

"Seven it is. Good day, Meacham."

"Good day sir, ma'am."

As the old elf held the door open Harry and Hermione stepped hand in hand out onto the landing then froze.

A lone Dementor hovered at the base of the stairs. It appeared to be bowing, with its skeletal hands stretched toward them as if in supplication.


	10. Chapter 10: A Trip to the Vaults

Chapter 10: A Trip to the Vaults

_As Meacham held the door open Harry and Hermione stepped hand in hand out onto the landing then froze._

_A lone dementor hovered at the base of the stairs. It appeared to be bowing with its skeletal hands stretched toward them as if in supplication._

With a speed born of necessity Harry quickly whipped out his wand and thought of all the things he associated with Hermione and shouted "_expecto patronum!_"

A massive golden stag, one of the dementor-killing varieties erupted from the wand and charged the semi-corporeal demon, which flew into the ground at the speed of thought.

The patronus frantically nuzzled the spot where the dementor disappeared; trying so hard to get to it that he chipped the curb with his hooves trying to follow the soul sucker into the ground.

Harry kept Hermione behind him as he advanced on the street, where he saw a gutter and a sewer drain.

"Damn that's one odd-off bugger of a dementor."

He looked at the patronus an asked "could you walk with us for a while, y'know, just in case it comes back?"

The golden stag nodded and let the couple walk ahead before taking up a sentry position following them.

"We're only eleven blocks from the Leaky Cauldron, so I thought we'd just walk. We can take a taxi or even the Knight Bus if you'd rather?"

"No, I think a walk will do us good."

"Y'know," he mused, "I've never heard of a dementor showing up in broad daylight before."

"That's because sunlight hurts them, he must have been in a lot of pain just now."

"And he didn't attack, just floated at the base of the steps while I called up Prongs here."

It was apparently possible for a patronus to look smug.

"Something else," Harry observed, "it didn't feel right."

"How can you know how a dementor feels, Harry?"

"No, I mean he didn't feel right to me. You know how a dementor sucks all the happiness out of you?"

She nodded.

"I didn't feel any of that, just the shock of seeing it hovering outside my door at ten o'clock in the morning."

They walked in silence for a few blocks.

"I hope the Weasleys are all right" he said.

"Me too," she agreed, "but it could have been worse, at least they're all alive."

Harry nodded then added grimly, "More or less, I wonder how Ginny's doing with Ron? I need to talk to her about treating the KoA's" at Hermione's puzzled expression he clarified "Kissed of Azkaban."

"Will you be okay seeing Ginny again?" she asked, unsure of how he would react.

"I really thought she was the one, y'know?" he confessed "You and Ron were just about engaged and you seemed so happy and Ginny and I were going to get back together and we'd be one big, happy Weasley family."

"You would have been good for Ginny" she said, almost sadly "she went through quite a string of boyfriends who, well, y'know, just wanted to use her. But you're not like that, you're loyal, and you don't like being used so you don't use people."

"You would have been good for Ron," he said, barely audibly, "you would have given him focus, maybe a little drive to better himself. I never told you how I really felt about you because it would have driven a wedge between us. I was going to dance at your wedding and be happy for you because you would have been hap – happy" at this his composure began to shatter.

"What kind of miserable git am I?" he groaned, "shagging my best mate's girl as soon as he's gone, and he's not really even gone is he?"

She grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him to face her then pulled him into a fierce hug "it's not like that, love, I liked Ron, but we would never have gotten married, even _he_ realized that. Listen Harry, I dated Ron so that you would be free to date Ginny, I was going to dance with you at your wedding and wish you every happiness, then I was going to move to New Zealand, because I couldn't stand to see you happy with someone, _anyone_ else."

He sniffed, "so you and Ron?"

"Oh _puleeze_ Harry, anyone who thinks we'd wind up together is_ delusional_!"

He nodded his understanding and took a deep breath as they rounded the corner to see the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Thanks Prongs" he said to the patronus as it faded away.

They walked into the pub and saw what looked like the aftermath of a battle. Wizards and witches and assorted other magical creatures were lying all over the tables and floors. The only normal sight was Tom the barman wiping glasses behind the counter.

"Din't have the heart to tell em' t' go home, so I let em' kip here f' the night" he said as he rinsed two more glasses "that was some party las' night, wot?"

Harry smiled at Hermione, "oh yes Tom, some party indeed."

"I kin see you two don' need no sobering charm" he grinned.

"Not today, but I think your customers will be needing them before long."

The old barman smirked and pointed to the shelf with the sign, "Guaranteed Hangover Potion, Three Galleons."

Harry laughed, "Always knew you were a good man of business, Tom!"

They tip-toed over the slumbering patrons and entered the Alley. Merchants were cleaning up after the party, streamers hung from every horizontal surface.

"We'll be needing a visit to Gringotts, then Madame Malkin's."

They climbed the stairs to the wizarding bank and walked in, it was nearly deserted, only a few merchants making deposits or getting change for the day. They walked up to one of the bored looking tellers.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal please."

The goblin sat up behind his ledger, "name please."

"Harry Potter."

What little noise there was in the bank ceased, you could have heard an owl's feather drop.

A very old goblin appeared at Harry's elbow "could you come with me please, Mr. Potter?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No sir, no problem at all, but we should not be discussing certain matters in the lobby sir" the goblin gestured to an open door.

"May Hermione come with me?" he asked.

"Of course, Mr. Potter, anyone with eyes can see that you are mate-bonded."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted, "mate-bonded."

"Aye; and it's a rare thing to see two young souls finding themselves so early in life" the goblin said by way of explanation.

"I like the sound of that" Harry said and smiled, "we've always been best friends, now we're mate-bonded, whatever that means."

Hermione looked very serious as she explained, "Harry, mate bonding is the goblin equivalent of marriage; mate bonds form when souls merge, in essence, the couple shares a single soul."

"Mine or yours?" he asked, only half-jokingly.

"Both actually, it means our souls combine," she looked deadly serious; "it means we can't ever be separated, even by death."

"So if one of us dies?"

"The other will still have the bond, and will probably follow close behind."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, "I think maybe my parents were-mate bonded, um, Hermione, are you all right with this? It seems pretty serious."

"Just ask yourself two questions, Harry, how do you feel about spending the rest of your life with me?"

He smiled.

"Harry, I'm going away tomorrow, I can't see you anymore."

He looked so devastated that she had to pull him into a fiercely loving embrace "oh Harry, I didn't mean that, I just had to know because," she choked out the words "because that's how I feel about you too."

He sniffed and said, "I guess we're well and truly mated then, huh?"

She nodded in agreement as they entered the conference room.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter" the honorific caught both teens by surprise, "I beg your pardon; is there some other form of address that you would prefer?" the goblin asked.

"Um, no," Harry put in, "if it's okay with you?" he asked Hermione.

"Within these walls I prefer Mrs. Potter," she said smoothly, "in business dealings outside the purview of Gringotts I would rather be Miss Granger."

The goblin understood completely "to business then."

He turned to face Harry and said "you are the last remaining member of the Ancient House of Potter, and as such have certain duties and obligations upon reaching your majority, which, according to our records, was three months ago."

"Well, yes, I was a bit preoccupied" Harry said by way of apology.

"Ah yes, fighting the dark lord and all his minions, nice piece of work that, by the way, very well done."

"Um, Thanks?" Harry said, almost as a question.

"The maintenance fees on your properties at Godrick's Hollow and more recently, Number 12 Grimauld Place have been in arrears for," the goblin shuffled a few papers on his desk, "here it is, in arrears for seventeen years, at a rate of 17 Galleons, 6 sickles, and 2 knuts per year compounded daily for seventeen years . . . carry the one, 209 thousand Galleons, and 2 knuts."

Harry was shell shocked, he thought he was well off, and now it turns out he'd inherited _debt_?

"Um, at least the knuts cancel out, right?"

"I can see this is a bit of a shock to you Mr. Potter, your trust vault has been depleted but your family vault is untouched, and if you will appoint a manager for your properties, they can go back to making money rather than incurring debt."

"How is that Mr. um, I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"My apologies Mr. Potter, Sharpclaw head of the clan Sharpclaw at your service sir."

"How is it that my family's properties have been making money Mr. Sharpclaw?"

"Mr. Potter, Godrick's Hollow is the burial place of your ancestor, Godrick Gryffindor, and to this day is a favorite tourist spot among witches and wizards from all over the world."

"So people are visiting the burned out ruin of my old home to visit a gravesite?"

"Actually, Mr. Potter, they're visiting the tomb of Godrick Gryffindor, I'm afraid your old house is now a car park."

Harry began to see red.

"And who authorized the car park on my family property?"

"No one Mr. Potter; neither was anyone stopping them, and as you may know, it's easier to get forgiveness than permission."

Harry stood up, angry.

Sharpclaw raised a placating hand "Mr. Potter, I am going to do something that I hope you will never share, I'm going to give you a bit of free advice. First get a layer, a good one, then get a good account manager for your properties, otherwise, the rest of the Potter fortune will simply evaporate. Lastly you are the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Triumphed, the one who delivered the elves from bondage, use that fame to your own benefit, because if you do not, someone else surely will!

Harry took a deep breath, "can you recommend a good layer?"

"I can, but I know that you are familiar with the Chief Justice of the Wizengamot?"

"Judge Vance?"

"The same; come to me for banking advice Mr. Potter. To find a good layer, ask a judge."

Harry wasn't as broke as he feared, but he wasn't as well off either, still he could stand to buy some new clothes so he and Hermione took the cart to his family vault to asses his finances.

"Mr. Sharpclaw, may I have copies of my family's ledgers please, I'll need them to give to the layer and the accountant."

"Of course Mr. Potter" the goblin agreed.

Within minutes Harry had an accounting of his assets, real estate: Number 12 Grimauld Place, the property on which his parent's home used to stand in Godrick's Hollow.

"You would have thought an Ancient Family would have a manor somewhere" Hermione mused.

"May I," Sharptooth asked, and flipped to the third page of Harry's assets.

"Ah," Harry said, a little dumbstruck, "it seems I, um, _we_ have a nice little mountain home in western Canada, a town called Banff."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, "did you day Banff?"

"According to the deed, we own, um a mountain and a Swiss-style chalet."

"Harry, that's in the Canadian Rockies and it's one of the most beautiful places on Earth!" she practically squealed.

Sharpclaw flipped to the last page of assets and pointed with the sharp claw of his index finger.

"And an island in the Caribbean" he said, blowing out a deep, calming breath.

Sharpclaw cleared his throat, "you will need a competent accountant and a properties manager as well as a good lawyer Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Sharpclaw, would it be possible to have a goblin as my accountant and properties manager?"

The look that the goblin gave Harry was enough to make him wonder if he had just inadvertently begun the next goblin war "if the request is out of line Mr. Sharpclaw, please excuse me, I'm not that familiar with wizard and goblin customs and I just thought . . ."

In a voice fraught with emotion the goblin asked, "What made you think that a goblin could be responsible for the assets of two of the Most Ancient wizard families?"

"Um, again, no offense meant, I just thought that since you, the goblins I mean, pretty well handle all of the banking anyway that you would know best how to put it to good use. I mean no one knows wealth management better, right?"

"And you are sanguine with the idea of a goblin handling your finances?"

"Well, yeah, but if we can't have a goblin manager I would use whoever you recommend?" the last part came out like a question.

Hermione put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder and explained, "Mr. Sharpclaw is just surprised that the scion of two ancient houses would trust a goblin to manage his wealth and properties, most wizards consider goblins to be beneath them and treat them with contempt. It's why goblins are so short, no offence Mr. Sharpclaw, when dealing with wizards and witches."

"That's just crazy, you'd have to be an idiot to treat the people that handle your assets like that, how does that make the goblin's want to work hard on your behalf?"

"It doesn't, Mr. Potter" Sharpclaw admitted, "but if you're in earnest, I will have at least four applications for the positions of accountant, financial advisor and properties manager by two of the clock this afternoon, sir."

"Please, Mr. Sharpclaw, just call me Harry?"

"Only if you'll call me Sharpclaw, Harry."

"Sharpclaw it is then" he said and extended his hand, which the goblin took, accidentally scratching Harry's wrist in the process.

"I apologize sir, I mean Harry, goblins do not shake hands in greetings and you are the first wizard to offer his hand in friendship to me" he took a small, very sharp dagger from his belt and asked Harry to please hold it, point up. As Harry complied Sharpclaw used the point of the dagger to scratch his own wrist.

"I had to do that sir, I mean Harry, because I have your blood on my hands you must have mine on yours."

"Are there any other things I need to know, should I be banging my head on the table or something about now?"

The goblin laughed, a high nasally sound, "No Harry, we're all good and even now."

The goblin got serious once more, "you'll be wanting this Harry" and handed over a lacquered box, about the size of a book.

Harry opened the box and saw four rings.

"The first ring is the Potter family ring; it can only be worn by the current head of the house of Potter, at the death of the patriarch the ring returns to this box in this vault."

Harry remembered seeing the ring in the pictures of his father, worn on the ring finger of his right hand.

"The other rings are your parent's wedding rings" Sharpclaw explained, "They were charmed to return to this box in like manner."

Harry ran his finger over his dad's wedding band, then his mum's engagement ring and complimentary band. He lifted the family crest ring from the box.

"I suppose I should start wearing this now?"

"It is your privilege and your responsibility Harry" the goblin agreed.

Harry placed the band on the third finger of his right hand and was a little startled when it sized itself to fit.

He pocketed one other ring from the box before placing it back on the shelf from which it had come.

"We'll need enough galleons to buy some new clothes and a few sundries, how much should I take?"

"For a full wardrobe, I should think 150 galleons each, and sundries, well, that depends what they are."

"I don't suppose you have something like a credit card?"

"No, but we can charm your moneybags so that they can access your galleons directly."

"That will do, thank you, I'd like two please."

Hermione looked startled, "no Harry, that's your money."

He took both her hands in his and said earnestly, "it's not my money, it's not your money; it's _the_ money. We're mate-bonded and I think if that's good enough for the goblins it's good enough for us."

Sharpclaw sniffed, then hawked and spat, "bonding vows always make me cry Harry" he said, obviously embarrassed.

"Come along Mrs. Potter, we're embarrassing our goblin friend" Harry smirked.

What he didn't realize was that by naming Sharpclaw 'goblin friend' he had cemented the clan of Sharpclaw to the clan of Potter for the next ten generations.

The cart ride to the Black family vault was as exciting as usual, just too short. In the vaults he saw many objects chained to the wall or inside metal cages held with iron chains and locks.

"Sharpclaw," Harry asked, eyeing the objects warily, "is there an inventory of the contents of this vault?"

"Of course, Harry" the goblin replied, and produced a thick sheaf of parchments.

"The Goblet of Poison, deadly to any but the scion of the House of Black, Terpsichorean caltrops, elfin silver undergarments which will turn any blade or projectile point, eye daggers, scrotum scythe . . ."

Harry paled as he read the list, "are all of these objects charmed, or rather, cursed?"

"I'd have to say the most are, yes."

"Is there anyway to dispose of them?"

Sharpclaw looked pensive for a moment, "I tell you this as a goblin friend Harry, I could tell you that we goblins would 'dispose' of the objects for you, but in fact we would sell them to whichever dark wizard gave us the best price" he shrugged apologetically. "The best way to ensure these objects will never be used against you is to leave them where they are."

Harry pondered that for a moment; then nodded in agreement.

The goblin handed Harry another lacquered box, similar to the one in his other vault, inside were the ring and two sturdy silvery chains with pendants that were, in fact, two small stoppered bottles inside finely wrought silvery leaf-work.

"Mr. Black's last will and testament makes you the head of the Black family, you may wish to wait before placing the ring on your finger, Harry" Sharpclaw advised.

"Why is that?"

"As head of the Black family you can be called on accounts for the actions of your family members, namely Bellatrix Black, Narcissa Black, and by blood association, Draco Malfoy."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "I _really_ need someone to teach me about the rights and responsibilities as the head of a house."

"The head of an _Ancient House_, Harry" Sharpclaw corrected.

"Any suggestions?"

"One, but I think you'll hesitate to accede to it" the goblin smirked.

"Who?"

"One of the black family members is languishing in a lower cell in Azkaban at this moment, contemplating the next fifty years or so in a windowless cell, with only vermin for company."

"Who?" Harry repeated.

"Narcissa Black Malfoy."


	11. Chapter 11: Goblin Customs, a Proposal

Chapter 11: Goblin Customs, a Proposal and a Voice from the Past

"Narcissa Malfoy needs to stay in Azkaban and rot!" Harry growled vehemently.

"Why is that Harry?" Hermione asked, "She's never moved directly against you, and all she ever did as a death eater was try to protect her son, I don't think there's any love lost between Narcissa and Lucius."

"How do you know all this?"

"Um, Myrtle told me. She would hang around in the library when we were researching horcruxes; remember it was Myrtle who gave us the clue to the last one."

"Yeah, she really came through in that last battle too; she led the other ghosts onto the field to take over the inferi."

"She'd be glad to hear you say that" Hermione said, blushing slightly.

"I haven't seen her since the battle, have you?"

"Oh, I'm sure she's around, listen, about Mrs. Malfoy, if you take the position as head of the house to dissolve her marriage to Lucius then she would be your, well, warder is the best way to describe it. You could have her out of Azkaban and into Grimauld Place as, oh, I don't know, your social secretary."

"And Harry, that would make you Draco's head of family, it would drive him nuts!"

Harry grinned at the thought.

"How is it that you know so much?" he smiled and chucked her under her chin.

"I told you, I've read every book in Hogwart's!"

He took her to one side of the vault and kissed her deeply, "I love you Hermione Granger, I hope you know that."

She melted into him, reveling in the warmth of his body, "please Harry, we're in Gringotts," she smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling, "call me Mrs. Potter."

He laughed and said "of course Mrs. Potter, and I'll be Mr. Potter, well, I guess I'm Mister Potter anyway, huh?" He thought for a moment, "I'll be Mrs. Potter's _mister_!"

"Sharpclaw," he smiled "I think I will take that ring, after all."

"Very good Harry, and you'll be wanting these too" the goblin said as he held up the two chains "elf wrought platinum, but the best thing is the charm. Place one drop of blood from each of you in each vial and you'll be able to silently communicate with each other no matter how far apart you are."

"Oh that's brilliant! Hermione?"

She looked up from the book she had been perusing "um, yes?"

"Matching chains, will you wear one?"

"Oh sure," she said, excitedly "they're beautiful! What goes in the vials?"

"I'll show you later" he said as he placed the chain around her neck and let her do the same for him. He loved the way the tiny vial nestled in her cleavage.

Harry's stomach grumbled and Hermione laughed and said "must be about lunch time."

As they rode back to the main lobby Harry said, "how do goblins greet each other when they meet?"

Sharpclaw said "with an exchange of gold, a galleon will do nicely, each goblin holds out his or her left hand and accepts the gold from the other goblins right hand, the exchange is simultaneous. When we part we use the same greeting, it's always polite to say "May your fortunes grow" or something similar."

Harry was eager to use his newfound knowledge and as he was leaving the bank he turned to Sharpclaw and extended his hands in goblin fashion saying "May your fortunes go!" And then realizing what he said quickly added "to where it'll earn the most interest!"

It took all the control Sharpclaw owned not to laugh hysterically at Harry's faux-paux and the brilliant way in which he covered up the error.

"As may yours Harry, I hope you'll come back this afternoon to look over those applications?"

"Two o'clock?"

"Two it is, we'll see you then Harry."

The other goblins were agog at the exchange between one of the bank's senior managers and the most recent hero of the wizarding world.

"Okay" Harry said, "food first, then shopping, what would you like?"

"Chinese" she said, without missing a beat.

"Chinese?" he asked, "in Diagon Alley?"

"Nope, two blocks south of the Leaky Cauldron, we passed it on the way here."

Harry had never eaten Chinese, but Hermione insisted he'd love it. The name of the place was the Wok-n-Roll and it was doing a booming take-away business. They sat at one of the tiny tables and ordered from the menu. He loved every bite. Shrimp egg rolls, lo mein, chicken in honey glaze, fried rice. Hermione had a simple dish with a long name Moo-goo-gai-pan, and Harry enjoyed his taste of that as well. They made it a standing date from then on, every Thursday they would have Chinese for lunch, no matter where they were.

A very full Harry and Hermione went back into the Alley to get fitted for their new clothes. Simple daywear that would work in either the magical or muggle worlds, shirts, skirts and trousers, as well as shoes that were comfortable to wear and yet dressy enough to go formal. They each selected a set of dress robes, two sets of business robes and various and sundry undergarments. Hermione enjoyed trying on different lacy under things that she had never worn before – "never had a reason to before" she whispered in her sexiest, sultriest voice to a blushing Harry.

He wanted nothing more than to take her home, or maybe into an empty fitting room right then, Gawd she was beautiful like this! He couldn't wait a minute more. He dropped to one knee.

"Hermione Jane Granger," he said in the middle of Madame Malkin's, with customers gawping on, "you have been my best friend since our first year together at Hogwarts. I loved you then and I love you even more now. Will you please marry me?" he pleaded as he slipped his mothers engagement ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

She yelped and dropped to her knees in front of him and shouted "oh yes, yes, yes!" as she peppered his face with kisses. A flash bulb went off as all the customers present broke into spontaneous applause.

"Maybe we can skip the bank and just go home?" he suggested, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

They finished their shopping and had the items shrunk to fit into their pockets. As Harry reached into his moneybag to pay Madame Malkin herself stopped him. "Your money is no good here today Mr. Potter, consider this our wedding present to you and the future Mrs. Potter.

"Perhaps I could be allowed to pay for my fiancée's wedding dress, Madame?"

"We shall see Mr. Potter" she smirked.

At two o'clock they were back in the lobby of Gringotts.

"May your fortunes grow, Sharpclaw," Harry said, passing and receiving a galleon.

"As may yours, goblin friend," the goblin replied, "if you will come this way please."

They followed him into a much nicer room with a large desk and a conference table set about with comfortable leather-covered chairs.

"These are the resumes of four of our best managers; I have condensed the particulars into returns on investment. The highest returns on investment are not necessarily the best indicator; rather the best would be the one who shows the most consistent growth over the long term."

"I'm not sure why, Sharpclaw," Harry said, puzzled, "but I seem to be drawn to this portfolio."

"Ah yes, one of Gringotts senior managers, he would be more than happy to handle your accounts if that is your wish."

"I've come to trust your judgment Sharpclaw, would you trust this goblin with your financial future?"

"Turn to the last page Harry" the goblin said and grinned.

It read, "Submitted on this date by Senior Account Executive, Sharpclaw."

Harry extended his hand, which the goblin took very carefully, lest they have to exchange blood again, and shook once.

"Harry, if your portfolio does not increase by fifty percent by the end of this calendar year, I will remove myself from your accounts and find a better manager, this I vow!"

A wizard's oath was made on his magic; a goblin's oath was made on his life.

As the young newly-engaged couple walked home they enjoyed a companionable silence, rounding the corner to Grimauld Place the shadow of the dementor seemed to hover near the front door. Harry whipped out his wand but saw that it was only a long shadow cast by a tree across the street. As they neared the door Harry noticed two symbols, runes perhaps, written in chalk on each of the steps leading up to the landing of Number 12.

"Funny I didn't see those before," Harry mused, "they are runes, aren't they?"

Hermione nodded, "the first one, the one that looks like a capitol letter 'M' with long legs, is 'Ehwaz,' which usually means friend or friendship. The other one, that looks kind of like a small letter 'n' squared off, with one leg longer than the other is 'Uruz,' which means courage."

"Or bravery?" Harry asked.

"Um, yes, so friendship and bravery, is that important somehow?"

"It is to me," Harry said, "you said it to me our first year, "there are more important things, you said, friendship and bravery and-" you never did finish the sentence, but I think you were going to say love."

Hermione nodded, "yes, friendship and bravery and love." She looked up at him with bright shinning eyes, "that's you Harry, to the core."

"That's the second time in as many days someone has given me that message, any ideas why?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head and said, "Let's go in."

As they neared the door Harry picked her up, fumbled with the door handle and carried her across the threshold.

"Silly, that's supposed to wait until after the wedding."

"Hey, according to the goblins, we're already married!"

"We certainly had a honeymoon last night" she said with a smile.

"We need to tell your parents, love," Harry said, "in fact, I should have asked their permission first."

"I'm already at the age of majority in both worlds Harry, but it's sweet of you to want to ask." They stepped into the library, "Um, would you mind sending them a message by Hedwig? I think it would be smashing if the groom-to-be were to tell them!"

"I have a better idea," he said as he sat down at the writing table, I'll invite them to dinner and we can tell them then. How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds good" she agreed with an unreadable expression, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Just then Meacham announced dinner.

After dinner they retired to the library and snuggled together on the big comfy couch and read. Hermione was lying on her back, her head in Harry's lap as he balanced his book on the armrest. His free arm caressed her flat stomach eventually coming to rest on her right breast.

"Ummmm," she murmured, "this is nice; I could definitely get used to this."

"Well," he mused, "seeing as how witches and wizards live two to three times longer than non-magical folk, we could be doing this for about another hundred years or so."

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," he kissed the top of her head, "never doubt that I love you Mrs. Potter."

Inexplicably both Hermione's eyes filled with tears, which ran freely down the sides of her head.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I just don't deserve you is all," she choked.

He let his book fall and bent down to kiss her with all the tenderness he could muster.

She gave in to his ministrations and unbuttoned her shirt to place his hand on her lace bra.

"Oh this _is_ nice," he said, coming up for air, "who would have thought that sheer lace could be so soft?"

"It's a matched set" she cooed dragging his hand down while simultaneously pulling her skirt up. She rested his hand over her warm, wet cleft and gyrated her hips suggestively.

"Hooo kay!" he said, sitting up smiling, "my, my. Look at the time! Bed time already; where did the time go?"

He lifted her into his arms again and nearly ran up the stairs to the master bedroom, kicking the door shut on his way in. Once inside he let her feet drop gently to the floor and gently pushed the white blouse off her shoulders and let it drop. She unbuttoned the side button at her waist and slid the zipper down so that her charcoal grey skirt pooled around her ankles. She took a step back and struck her best Morgana's Secret pose.

Harry felt as though he couldn't breathe, he started taking long, slow breaths as he surveyed the beauty before him. She was in a rose-red demi-bra which accented her 34B cups nicely, his eyes traveled down past her waspish waist to the swell of her hips sporting the matching high cut knickers. His eyes then followed her shapely legs down to her red leather ankle wrap sandals with the four inch "fuck me" heels.

He wanted to say how beautiful she was, that he wasn't worthy of her that he could spend the rest of his life trying and still not deserve her. What came out was a cross between a sigh and a groan.

She was ecstatic; she saw his eyes take on that glassy look that meant his higher brain functions were shutting down; she unfastened the front clasp on her bra then turned around to slide the panties off her bum. She knew that if she didn't take them off that he was about to rip them off and she wanted to wear them again at least once!

While Hermione was bent double from the waist she started to undo the leather wraps on her high heels when he growled out "no."

Hermione's eyebrow arched upwards, "no?"

"Leave the shoes on," he ordered hoarsely.

He moved to capture her but she put both her hands on his chest and said, "One of us has on entirely too many clothes."

"Give me a hand?" he asked.

She slid around behind him so that she could reach around with both arms and unbutton his shirt. As she did this his hands came around to caress her bum.

She unbuckled his belt then unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper down. While her hands were in the neighborhood she reached into his boxers.

"Oh I'd say we're ready baby" she cooed.

She reached under his T shirt and pulled it up over his head, then wrapped her arms around his chest for a soft, warm bare hug. Then she hooked her thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and pulled down stopping only long enough to say "shoes."

He kicked off his shoes then stepped out of his trousers and boxers. He reveled in the heat of her, her heels put her wet center near his bum cheeks and he could almost imagine the musk rising as steam from the juncture of her legs.

She grasped him by his protruding part and frog-marched him to the bed, then said "turn around."

When he did she pushed him back onto the bed before falling on top of him trapping 'Little Harry' between them. She slid up on his abdomen until her steaming entrance was just beyond the end of his manhood, and then she reached behind herself to guide him in as she slid into place.

Up, down, a little wiggle as she bottomed out on him, then up and down and grind, and again, and again, and again. Hermione's body felt the familiar tingle that had been denied to her for so long, she moaned "oh Harry, oh baby, oh fuck me oh fuck me oh fuck oh fuuuuuuuuck!" After that she alternated between screeching and moaning and "oh fuck"-ing.

Harry had both hands full of bum cheek as she bounced and he thrust in counterpoint trying for that extra penetration. He had been without for so long, without physical intimacy to be sure, but without love in all of its connotations. And now he had a goddess and he loved her will all that he was. As the familiar pressure began to erupt he cried "I love you My Mione!"

And that said it all. They might have been fucking rutting like a pair of stoats but they were first and foremost making love.

They continued to dance the dance of the ages throughout the night, napping for an hour or so before starting again, never really separating.

The next morning came way too early, but they hunkered down into the duvet still coupled like a pair of Siamese twins joined at the sex. Hermione was spread eagle across his body as Harry lay on his back.

"Bullocks" she said.

"What?"

"Need the loo, _really_ need the loo!"

Harry threw off the duvet, and then carefully slid to the side of the bed, keeping close contact inside Hermione. He sat up and she wrapped her legs around his middle. He stood up taking her with him and she thought 'oh I love being with an athlete!'

He walked them into the bathroom where she reluctantly uncoupled so that she could go to the W.C. as he started the shower. The water was charmed to come out warm immediately and Harry was luxuriating in the flow when he felt something very warm and wet surround his member. He groaned as Hermione's tongue worked its magic, as he was beginning to feel that familiar tingle she disengaged and stood.

"Oh my," she said in mock seriousness, "I seem to have dropped my soap." Saying this she turned her back to Harry and bent over at the waist – folded in half like that she was at the perfect height and angle to take him from behind, flexible little minx!

Harry loved it when she screamed his name and "fuck me" in the same sentence. It was always a turn on for him. He rammed into her, reveling in the warmth, the tightness of her. He had numbed slightly from all their exertions the night before so it was a good fifteen minutes before he groaned her name yet again in blessed completion.

After that his legs felt like so much rubber and he reluctantly let her down, where she found she was equally wobbly. They soaped and rinsed each other thoroughly, then just to be sure, did it again before leaving the shower very clean and refreshed.

Harry's _accio_ pulled soft towels from the shelf that kept them magically warmed and wrapped Hermione in one like a balmy terrycloth hug.

"Oh baby," she cooed, "you're hired!"

"For you Mrs. Potter I'd gladly work for free."

"You just want to have your wicked way with me" she smirked.

"I just want to be with you" he said with such sincerity that she began to tear again.

"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that to me" she choked.

"Now, now" he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace "no tears today, you're here, that's all that matters."

The were still locked in their embrace when they went back into the bedroom to find the bed made up with clean fresh sheets and their clothes laid out for them cleaned and pressed. They reluctantly released each other and dressed, then explored the master for the first time.

Hermione squealed in delight as she saw the dressing table, complete with combs and brushes and with enough drawers and cubbies to accept even Lavender Brown's extensive makeup collection.

Harry opened up the wardrobe and was surprised to see all of their purchases from the previous day hanging neatly, his to the right and Hermione's to the left. It was, of course, a magic wardrobe in that the inside was much larger than the outside so that it was, in effect, like walking into another room.

"It's bigger than the bedrooms at Privet Drive" he mused.

"Oh Harry, it's brilliant, there's more than enough room for all my things – and then some!"

They were startled from their explorations by the sound of an elf clearing his throat, "good morning sir, ma'am, sorry to intrude but I need to know if you'll be wanting breakfast or lunch as its past eleven of the clock."

She looked up at her fiancé and asked, "pancakes?"

He smiled back at her and said "Meacham, can we have pancakes with black currants?"

"Very good sir, this morning's Prophet is on the small dining room table as is the reply from Miss Granger's parents and a note from a "Gred and Forge" Weasley."

"Thank you Meacham," Harry replied, "have you picked out a room?"

The little old elf smiled and said "yes sir, a proper room with a real bed and dresser and wardrobe and even my own bathroom. Apparently this house was built with human servants in mind and I've moved into the butler's quarters on the kitchen side of the coach house."

"We have a coach house?"

"Yes sir, would you care to see it after breakfast?"

"I'd like that very much, thank you."

The little man bowed and faded from sight.

"It's a little disconcerting the way he does that," Harry said.

"It's his way, he's a house-elf and they are always there, never seen."

"You don't suppose he's, y'know, there when we're, um . . ."

"No Harry, good house elves always turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to the intimacies of the master and the mistress of the house."

He was obviously relieved.

"To breakfast, Mrs. Potter?"

"To breakfast, Mrs. Potter's _mister_!"

As they entered the small dining room they saw the mail and paper laid out on the table. The wizard photo on the front page showed Harry on one knee placing a ring on Hermione's finger and then her falling to her knees to hug him fiercely, then repeated.

Harry groaned, "I'd hoped to break this to our magical friends, well, _gently_."

The headline read "Man Who Triumphed Engaged! by Rita Skeeter."

Harry read the first page of the article with Hermione reading over his shoulder.

_Yesterday the Man Who Triumphed startled onlookers at Madame Malkins by proposing to his long time friend Hermione Granger, fellow Gryffindor and a girl that has been rumored to be romantically linked to Mr. Potter, as well as Victor Krum, world cup seeker. Miss Granger had most recently been romantically linked to Ronald Weasley, described by those in the know as 'Harry's best mate.' Mr. Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley clan, was an unfortunate casualty of the final battle with Voldemort, nee Tom Riddle earlier this week._

_Some readers might say that it is too soon after the war's end and that these young people are rushing headlong into a lifelong commitment. These gentle beings should remember that these two young warriors of the wizarding world have been friends for the better part of a decade and have surely seen each other at their best and worst. _

_This reporter is delighted at the announcement, which in no small way vindicates my report from the Tri-Wizard Tournament that recognized the sparks in the air when these two are anywhere near each other (story continues on page 3)._

"Well she got a couple of points wrong, that's to be expected" Harry said, shaking his head, "Ron is not the youngest Weasley and we didn't become romantically involved until, let's see, today is Saturday?"

"I know I've fancied you since our first year Harry, I'm sure anyone with eyes could have seen that."

"I wish I had known then, love. Think of all the time we've wasted. I would have loved taking you to the Yule Ball, and as my date on Hogsmeade weekends."

She smirked, "exploring broom cupboards, the astronomy tower."

"The prefect's bath . . ." they said simultaneously, and laughed.

They read the note from Hermione's parents, delighted to come, asking for directions and asking if they could bring anything for dinner.

They opened the letter from 'Gred and Forge' and were startled by a loud bang and the sound of noisemakers and confetti, which fell into the butter dish and syrup pitcher.

The not-quite-a-howler but just as loud announced:

"_Congratulations you two; and congratulate us too! Padma and Pavarti are the newest members of the Weasley clan! Take it from us mate, elope! No muss, no fuss, no botha!"_

The message ended with another bang and more confetti, which Meacham magically dispelled, a written note was included,

_Mum and Saas (mum in law) Patil are furious of course, they wanted to have a big to do over the brides' dresses and such. Dad thinks it's great and Susar (dad in law) Patil is beside himself with relief because he's not going to have to put out for two very expensive weddings._

_On a more serious note, tread lightly around mum, with Ginny in jail and Ron in St. Mungo's she's about ready to explode. She turned and interesting shade of white when she saw the evening edition of the Prophet announcing your engagement, she's getting herself worked up about you and Hermione and Ron and Ginny and you don't want to be there when she explodes. All we ask is that you try to understand where she's coming from in all this, she has, essentially, lost her two youngest children._

_As for the rest of us, good on you mate, you too Hermione, everyone knew you two belonged together, well, almost everyone. Some people are delusional._

_Party at the Burrow, next Saturday starting at six; be there or we _will_ come after you!_

_Lurve and such,_

_Mr. and Mrs. and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley-Patil_

"Sweetheart," he asked, "how do you feel about eloping?"

"You find a suit, I'll ring up the vicar, or priest or rabbi or bishop or the captain of the ship we're sailing on" she said with a broad smile.

"Oh, you're all right with it then, good" he returned her smile, "but I still want to let your parents know, speaking of which, what should we serve, is there anything they don't like, food-wise I mean?"

"Oh, um, just about anything. We could do a roast and potatoes and they'd be fine, lots of fresh veggies, and um, a nice dessert, maybe a trifle?"

"Did you get all that Meacham?" Harry called out over his shoulder.

"Yes sir, may I suggest a London broil?"

"Sounds good Meacham."

"Very good sir."

"Hey, let's check out the carriage house" Harry said expectantly.

"Through the back door in the kitchen, sir, past my quarters and the basement steps."

"Thank you Meacham."

They walked into the old style carriage house to find, not a carriage, but a workroom, or rather a hobby room. The walls were covered in tools, both familiar and unfamiliar. Workbenches were covered in dust cloths and in the middle of the floor was the unmistakable shape of a motorcycle under a heavy canvas cover.

"That must be Sirius' old motorcycle" Harry whispered.

He drew the cover off to reveal the 1969 Triumph Trident 750cc three cylinder classic. It sported a midnight blue gas tank and matching side covers and had evidently been charmed to repel dust and rust, it looked like a new bike on the showroom floor.

Harry whistled, "I'm gonna need lessons before I can ride this."

He eased himself onto the seat and checked the fuel tank, it looked about three-quarters full. Harry saw the key in the ignition and turned it to the run/start position. He moved the bike slowly forward and back, to make sure it wasn't in gear then put his left foot on the kick-starter and gave it a quick push down. The three cylinders thrummed into life and rumbled at idle like an oversized jungle cat. He set the key to the off position and the sound seemed to echo in the carriage house for a while.

"_Definitely_ need riding lessons!" he enthused.

"You do all right by me" Hermione smirked, "riding that is. . ."

Harry smiled and said, "I'm so glad you're with me woman, because _you're_ insatiable and _I_ just can't get enough of you."

"Y'see" she smiled as she sat on the seat behind him "we're perfect for each other."

"Can we go back to Madame Malkin's today, sweetheart?" Harry asked, "she said our clothes would be ready by now."

"Okay" she agreed.

"And while where there, why don't we pick out a nice white dress for you?"

"Um, okay" she said, a bit confused, "but why white?"

"Isn't that the traditional color for a wedding dress?"

She squeezed him from behind and buried her head in the juncture of his neck and shoulder "don't you ever change, you wonderful man!"

They decided to floo to the Leaky Cauldron first, and then walk into Diagon Alley from there. When they arrived at Madame Malkin's their purchases were indeed ready.

"Madame," Harry asked "could you show us some of your bridal, um, dresses and stuff?"

The good madam let them into her bridal shop where half a dozen stunning designs were already on display.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to look at our catalog while we discuss Miss Granger's measurements and preferences?"

"Um, sure" he answered. He hadn't thought about looking through a catalog, but it seemed like a good way to pass the time.

Bridal dresses, it seems, were designed to be worn only once, not that Harry minded, but an awful lot of work went into making something that was so, temporary. It would be better, he thought, to just transfigure an everyday outfit, then when it reverted to form it was still wearable. He thought this while looking through the catalog, seeing dresses that were too long, too short; this one had a neckline that went down to the navel. One had a ridiculously long train, one had a silly pillbox hat, and one was . . . familiar?

"Where have I seen this before?" he thought.

Then he remembered. Pictures. Wedding pictures. His parent's wedding, his mum, Lilly, was wearing a dress like this, where she would dance with Sirius forever in his beloved family photo album. He looked up to see both ladies looking back at him.

"See, my dear," Madame Malkin was saying, "it never fails, the groom-to-be always finds a style to his liking. It's part of the 'charm' of my catalogue."

"Can you do this?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"In a trice," the good dressmaker said, "now shoo! You do not get to see the bride in her gown until the wedding!"

"But I found the dress!" he protested.

"And for that we are very grateful Mister Potter, now, shoo! Quality Quidditch Supplies it four doors down, good day!"

And so it was that Harry found himself walking down the Alley when he heard what sounded like a sob coming from a side alley.

"Hello?" he called.

He drew his wand and heard what sounded like a little girl sobbing in a large empty room.

"Hello?"

"You're a great wizard Harry," the little girl's voice said.

"Not as good as you" he replied, knowing those were the words he must say.

"Books and cleverness, there are more important things. Friendship, bravery and-"

"_Lumos!_" Harry cried.

The dementor seemed to flow like oily water into the open window of a cellar before Harry could call forth his patronus.

He knew that voice.

It was the voice of an eleven year old girl.

It was the voice of Hermione Granger.

ooo000ooo

Author's note: for you motorcycle aficionados out there the Triumph's of the 1960s, even those sold in the U.S. had kick starters, and they were on the left. Everything was reversed, throttle on the left, clutch on the right, foot break on the left, gear shift on the right; going back and forth from my buddy's 69 Triumph Bonneville to my 74 Honda 500 4-cylinder took some getting used to. Great bike though. I still ride. I ride a Honda V 45 Magna that was built in 1986, which makes it officially old enough to drink in the State of Florida. Still runs great.


	12. Chapter 12: Meet the Parents

Chapter 12: Meet the Parents

"_You're a great wizard Harry," the little girl's voice said._

"_Not as good as you" he replied, knowing those were the words he must say._

"_Books and cleverness, there are more important things. Friendship, bravery and-"_

"Lumos!_" Harry cried._

_The dementor seemed to flow like oily water into the open window of a cellar before Harry could call forth his patronus._

_He knew that voice._

_It was the voice of an eleven year old girl._

_It was the voice of Hermione Granger._

A feeling like an icicle in his gut made Harry run back to Madame Malkin's. He burst through the door, demanding to see Hermione.

The sales staff could sense the aura of a powerful wizard on a mission and they pointed toward the owner's office. The door slammed open as Harry approached, apparently of its own volition, rather than be torn off its hinges or blasted into so many toothpicks.

A very startled Hermione, dressed, if you could call it that, in white stockings and suspenders, white lace demi-bra and matching lace barely there knickers.

"Harry?" she screamed, not out of anger but out of fear, fear for him, he looked like someone had ripped his soul out. "Harry, what is it?"

He enveloped her, bound and determined to protect her from the evil that was stalking them.

"I-I saw _it_ again, you know?" he was sobbing as he held her.

"But this time it spoke, only it was your voice, and I was so afraid that it had got-_got_ to you and you would be like Ron and I couldn't stand it and I ran here and I didn't see you anywhere and I can't-I _can't_ lose you again!"

He was babbling incoherently now and she was soothing, comforting him.

"It's okay baby; shhh, it's okay, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Merlin" he sniffed as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe, "you must think I'm a total git. I can't be away from you five minutes without panicking."

She smiled and said, "I can think of worse things, like you being away from me and being thankful for it."

He smiled and took a deep breath, "never happen" he turned to look sheepishly at Madame Malkin "I'm sorry Madame, I had no right barging in here like this; I'll just wait outside.

"Before you go, sweetie" Hermione did a little pirouette, "you like?"

He smiled and said, "oh yes, I like very, _very_ much!"

"Thank you, thank you," she said, sketching a theatrical bow "next show will be sometime after my parents go home tonight!"

Harry smirked and said "I'll be sure to get a front row seat!"

Hermione smiled and kissed him and said "I'll be a few more minutes."

Harry left the office and offered his apologies to the staff and customers who had heard the entire exchange.

One of the sales girls nearly swooned, "what I wouldn't give for a man to come for _me_ like that. If you stormed into Hell the devil himself wouldn't dare stand in your way!"

"Well there's a rogue dementor out there stalking us and he's about as bad" Harry said by way of an explanation.

Those nearby shuddered at the thought.

Harry took a seat near the fitting rooms and looked through the magazine selection. Fairly recent copies of magical publications aimed at witches adorned the table; there was Witch Weekly, and Kitchen Witch, and Teen Witch. Harry noticed that there were an awful lot of articles about him; he recognized some of the cover art as having been taken by Colin Creevey, who now exchanged oxygen for carbon dioxide in St. Mungo's and not much else.

As he thumbed through the Teen Witch he noticed not only articles, but adverts featuring himself. He didn't remember giving anyone permission to use his image or name in advertising, and he certainly never posed with a bottle of Peace-of-Mind morning after potion.

He looked up at the counter girl and asked, "May I have this?"

The girl looked around and said, "if you'll sign the cover of my copy, please, it's for my, um niece, yeah, that's it, my niece in Devon" she handed him a quill along with her copy of the magazine.

Harry smiled and asked "what's her name?"

"Just say "best wishes Dawn, your friend, Harry," okay?"

Harry handed the magazine back to the counter girl just as one of her co-workers called out "hey Dawn, we need some suspenders over here!"

Harry smirked "funny how your niece has the same name as you."

The counter girl shrugged and smiled weakly, "busted!"

Hermione stepped out of the office and sidled up to Harry "flirting with the sales staff?"

Harry winked at Dawn and said, "Just enjoying my last few days as a carefree bachelor" which made the counter girl go crimson.

"Come along Don Juan, your mistress commands!" she said with a haughty tilt of her nose.

"Yes dear" Harry replied, his head bowed.

They left Madame Malkins and stopped into Fortescue's for an ice cream creation; Mrs. Fortescue served them and, like Madame Malkin, refused to accept payment. "Florean, God rest his soul, was right fond of you Mr. Potter, you and your fiancé are always welcome here."

After ice cream they went back to the Leaky Cauldron to floo home. Harry went into the library to compose a letter to Judge Vance, to let him know of his concerns and to ask for the name of a good lawyer.

"Oh Harry . . ."

Harry finished his letter and had just affixed it to Hedwig's leg.

"Yes dear?"

Hermione came into the library holding a bowl. She was stirring the contents with a largish spoon.

"Meacham had some raspberries left over from the trifle and I wondered if you might like some" she had a hungry look in her eye, and not for raspberries.

"What would you like to have yours on?" he asked as she handed him the bowl.

"The question, Mr. Potter, is what would you like to have _yours_ on?"

As she asked this she opened her robes to reveal nothing but skin beneath, she sat up on the library table, scooted to the center then lay down to look at Harry with a glazed expression, "anything come to mind?" she asked, huskily.

Harry grinned as he stirred the tart sauce, "hmmmmm, let's see" he said as he dribbled a little sauce between her breasts. He set the bowl aside and began to lick and suck the sauce from Hermione's chest, paying particular attention to her erect nipples.

He stood and dribbled a line down to her navel, which he filled like a raspberry sauce reservoir; then proceeded to trace over the line with his lips and tongue, draining the tiny pool dry, well as dry as he could get it with his tongue.

He continued to dribble down till he reached her pubic hair and thought, hmmmm.

"Sweetheart?" he asked, "Have you ever considered shaving down there?"

She growled, "Got your wand handy?"

"Always" he answered, then whipped it out and began the same spell he used in the mornings to remove his chin stubble. It was a particularly useful spell because it not only removed the hair, but vanished it as well. He thought of Professor Flitwick's lectures on the physics of applied magic, that said anything vanished in one place had to appear in another and he wondered as he rendered Hermione's sex completely smooth where the hair went?

In the hour that followed Hermione's body was one long continuous orgasm, she knew from her researches (and some observations) that Harry was a natural, he seemed to know when to be gentle and when to be NOT gentle. He brought her off so many times in a short period that she was having trouble remembering to breathe. She finally had to grab him by the hair and slam her legs together to get him to stop long enough for her to catch her breath. It's a good thing he had come up for air just then!

"Oh Harry, you absolute jewel!" she said breathlessly then she looked down and saw that his lower face and jaw was wet with a combination of her juices and the raspberry sauce and she began to laugh.

At his puzzled expression she said, "Look in the mirror Harry" between fits of uncontrollable giggles.

He stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror over the fireplace and saw what she saw. He began to laugh too.

"Oh my darlin', _kiss_ me!" he said as he nuzzled her neck, transferring the sticky sauce and her own juices to her neck then face.

"Off me you great lummox!" she shrieked as she tried to push him away with her hands, "you're a sticky mess!"

He laughed, "Pot to kettle, _who's_ a sticky mess?"

She leaned up on her elbows and looked down at her raspberry smeared body.

Harry thought she was the sexiest sight he had ever seen, propped up on her elbows, knees spread showing off her bald, raspberry juice glazed assets.

She laughed along with him and said, "I guess we both are, eh whot?"

He carried her up to the master bath where he set her down gently then started the bath water. The tub filled very quickly and by the time Harry had his clothes off the tub was full.

"Hold still" she said as she wiped his face with a wet flannel.

He slipped in first then she joined him, lounging on him as he caressed her wet soapy body with his magic hands.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you Harry?"

"If it's half as much as I love you, then it's a scary lot!"

"You're everything to me, never forget that, whatever you ask of me I will do, I love you that much."

"Anything?"

"Anything"

"Then promise you won't leave me, promise me we can be together forever and a day" he said earnestly.

"This I vow" she said and the water around them glowed blue for a few moments and was then re-absorbed into Hermione's body.

"Did you just swear a mage's vow?" he asked.

"Yep" she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Didn't you tell me not to take a magical oath lightly?"

"Harry" she said, "without you I am nothing, it was not taken lightly, I'm afraid you're stuck with me" saying this she smiled and twisted around to kiss him tenderly.

He remembered a Disney movie that his cousin had watched on video and said in an over the top Latino accent, "if this is torture, chain me to the wall!"

"Hmmmm," she murmured, "chains Harry? I had no idea . . ."

Eventually they drug themselves out of their relaxing bath and dressed for dinner. The doorbell rang promptly at seven and Harry and Hermione, looking every bit the lord and lady of the manor greeted her parents at the door.

"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, welcome to Grimauld Place."

Hermione's father extended his hand and said "Daniel Granger, Dan to my friends," Harry shook it and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his wife, "Emma, Harry, it's good to finally meet you properly."

The Grangers looked around the foyer and Emma exclaimed, "Why it's lovely, nothing like what Hermione described from two summers ago."

"She didn't exaggerate Mrs. um, Emma, this place was a run down wreck, full of awful dark objects" Harry explained.

"Well I love what you've done with the place" she enthused.

"I have to give credit where it's due, Meacham is responsi-"

"Yes sir?" the little man asked, startling the Grangers who hadn't seen him standing there.

"Oh, nothing Meacham, I was just telling Mrs. Granger that you were responsible for the wonderful renovations to our home."

"Thank you sir, ma'am," the old elf looked to Harry, "there is wine on the sideboard; dinner will be at the half."

"Very well Meacham, it smells wonderful."

"It smells like a roast," Dan said.

"Oh surely not," Emma rejoined, "Hermione knows we're vegetarians."

Harry and Hermione paled for a moment.

"I'll just see if I can give Meacham a hand in the kitchen," Harry said, "why don't you give your folks a tour, dear?" his eyes were pleading.

"Oh sure, we can start in the library!" Hermione said just a little too brightly.

Harry walked as casually as he could into the kitchen and said, "Meacham, we have a problem. The Grangers are vegetarians."

The old house elf looked nonplused "not a problem sir, we elves are also herbivorous, I can substitute Portabella Mushrooms for the London broil, and not have to change any of the attending dishes. He vanished the broil and in its place summoned the biggest mushrooms Harry had ever seen, wrapped in a like manner to a broil.

"The mushrooms only need to broil for fifteen minutes; then we can proceed as planned."

Harry clapped the old elf on the shoulder and said, "Meacham, you're a life saver, thank you!"

The old elf allowed himself a small smile "all in a days work sir, I'm pleased that you find my services adequate."

Harry was all smiles when he joined the Grangers in the formal dining room for wine before dinner.

"This is wonderful wine Harry!" Dan enthused, "wherever did you get it?"

Meacham piped in, "that's a Burgundy from the Black family cellar, I'm glad it's to your liking sir."

In no time the table was set and the two generations of couples settled in to a fine meal.

"Oh this is delicious, wherever did you find Portabellas this grand?" Emma asked.

"Again, I have to defer to Meacham on that. It just so happens that he and his people are also vegetarians."

"Forgive me Harry," Emma said, "but is Meacham a, well, a little person?"

"Point in fact, Meacham is an elf" Harry clarified.

Emma looked at Hermione, "you mean those creatures you described as slaves to the wizarding world?"

"Actually, there are no more house elves, in fact, Harry freed them," to the Granger's dumbfounded expressions she explained, "there was a battle, the elves fought on the side of the light and for that they were freed."

"So how is it that you still have an elf?" she looked at Harry for an answer.

"I serve this house as its retainer ma'am, a gentleman's gentle-elf if you will" the old elf volunteered. "I am not a slave, but I will serve the House of Potter for the span of one human wizard's life. That is my agreement with the council of elders, our ruling body."

"Oh, so you're here by choice then?" Emma asked.

"Indubitably ma'am" the miniature butler said with great dignity.

The elf poured more wine for the Grangers, but not for the younger hosts, it was alright for the guest to be 'a bit relaxed,' but not the host and hostess.

After dinner the raspberry trifle was served and neither Harry nor Hermione could suppress their grins at the sight and aroma of raspberry sauce.

"What's so amusing, then?" Dan asked, eyebrows rising.

"Sorry Dad, my fault" Hermione offered, "I was playing in the kitchen and I'm afraid I made quite a mess of the raspberry sauce . . ."

Harry guffawed, "I'm sorry, he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, but she was quite a sight, cov-covered in tart berry sauce!"

The laughter was contagious, and the wine certainly helped.

Dan leaned over and whispered in what he thought was a voice that couldn't carry "I know what I would have done if I'd found you in the kitchen covered in tart berry sauce!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and he said, perhaps a little too brightly, "Sooo, anyone here know anything about motorcycles? I seem to have inherited one."

Dan's face fell, "a motorcycle, do you ride?"

"Not yet sir, I plan to take lessons, the bike belonged to my godfather and he willed it to me, along with this house."

Emma said, "We used to ride, but it's gotten too dangerous on the roads these days, too many cars not watching where you're going, we were nearly hit on our old Bonnie, _twice_!"

Harry stood, "you may want to see this" and he led all three Grangers into the old carriage house."

"My God," Dan was awestruck, "is that a Trident 750?"

"Pretty sure, sir."

"It looks like it just came off the showroom floor!"

"That's exactly what I said; care to give it a spin?"

He looked crestfallen again, "I'd love to Harry, but we've had a bit too much to drink as it is and it wouldn't be safe."

"Perhaps another time then?"

"Oh I'd love that Harry, thank you."

"Let's retire to the library everyone."

They reluctantly left the Triumph in the carriage house and regrouped in the library.

"So, Hermione," Emma asked, "are you and Harry, um, _living_ here now?"

Hermione smiled, "yes we are Mum."

"And that's an engagement ring on your left hand?" she pressed.

Harry jumped in, "my fault Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger, I couldn't stand to put it off so I asked Hermione to marry me yesterday and she said yes. I – I didn't think to ask you, sir for your permission, I guess it's too late for that. But I love your daughter with all my heart and it would mean the world to her, to both of us if we could have your blessing."

There was a pregnant pause and Emma and Dan did that silent communication so common to married couples, then Dan's mouth split into a huge grin as he said "you told me, didn't you; didn't you tell me this would be and engagement party?"

"Of course dear, mothers just know about such things!"

Hermione piped in, "then, you're okay with this?"

"Oh pumpkin, if he's your choice than of course we're alright with it!" Emma said, gathering her daughter into a tight hug.

"I can see that you have the wherewithal to support my daughter in a manner," Dan looked around the room, "in a manner to which she will _become_ accustomed, welcome to the family, son!"

Harry took the offered hand and was surprised when the older man pulled him into a 'manly embrace' with much back slapping involved "just be good to my little girl, that's all I ask."

Harry returned the embrace and said, "I will sir, I promise!"

As if on cue, Meacham popped the cork on an excellent champagne and it was toasts all around.

Since the next day was Sunday the Grangers agreed to take one of the guest rooms for the night rather than risk being pulled over for driving under the influence. That gave the two couples more time to enjoy each other's company. Somewhere near midnight Emma pulled Harry into the kitchen.

"Harry, I think it's wonderful that you've managed to help my daughter break out of her shell, but I have to ask. Did something dreadful happen recently, to Hermione, I mean?"

He had already resigned himself to the notion that Emma would be at least as observant as her daughter.

"I won't lie to you Emma," he said, not flinching from her penetrating gaze, "it was pretty bad. Some of our friends were killed this week, and some, well some are as good as dead."

"And Hermione was in the thick of it?"

"Emma, I would have done _anything_ to keep her out of it, but I think you know how headstrong she can be?"

Hermione's mum kind of half-smiled and nodded.

"She was attacked by a soul-sucking demon, I-I thought I'd," tears formed from the memory, "I _knew_ I'd lost her and I just shut down, I wanted to die."

Emma pulled Harry into a gentle embrace, "I can see she means the world to you Harry."

"She means everything to me Mrs. Granger, and she saved my life too!"

"How?"

"Like I said, I'd given up, I wanted Voldemort to just get it over with, but Hermione said 'no!' and she came back fighting! It was because of that that we're all alive and safe today, if she hadn't . . ."

"I've noticed some things," Emma said, "little things mostly, but she's like a different person now."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"Simple things, really," she explained, "like putting lemon in her tea, and using the wrong fork for salad and dessert, and she seems to have forgotten some things we talked about just last week."

Harry sighed, "It's been one hell of a week Emma."

"Harry, could you do us a favor?" she asked "For Dan and me actually."

"Sure" he agreed.

"Could you call us Mum and Dad?"

Harry's eyes filled with tears again "I'd love that . . . Mum!" and she held him again.

"We always wanted a son, but after Hermione was born, well, it was a difficult delivery and we can't, I can't . . ."

It was Harry's turn to sooth his newfound mother in love.

After a short while she pulled a hanky from her skirt pocket and blew her nose "just look at us, what a sight I must be!"

"You look great Mum, I can see what Mione will look like in a very few years and I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

"Mione?" she asked, "she lets you call her that; since when?"

"Going on seven years now, why?"

"She hates it when someone tries to give her a nickname, or to contract her name," she smiled, "it just means that our Hermione has thought of you as something special for a very long time already!"

Dan came into the kitchen and said "Oi, you've already got one Granger girl," then he pulled his wife into a playful hug, "leave this one to me!"

"Sure thing . . . Dad."

Dan's expression went from one of shock, through pensive, then delighted.

"I'm going to take this lovely creature to our room now, son, we'll just say our goodnights now."

"Goodnight Dad, Mum."

"Goodnight son."

They were not quite as foot-sure as they could have been climbing the stair, but they made it to their room more or less upright. Harry smirked as he realized that his in-laws were in the room farthest from the Master, way to go Meacham!

Harry went back into the library where he found his fiancé staring into the fireplace.

"A knut for your thoughts" he said bending down to kiss her gently.

"They're good people" she said.

"Well, they had you, of course they are" he said without hesitation.

"And they love you already, you charmer you!"

"Well, I've heard stories about in-laws from hell and I hoped we'd try to make a good first impression."

"Mr., um, Dad thinks the world of you; he told me that I should hang on to you, that you were a keeper."

"I hope you didn't tell him I was a seeker instead" he chortled.

"Seek all you want Harry, but make sure you always find me at the end of the day."

"I will. To bed?" he asked.

"To bed" she agreed.

As they waked up the steps they heard a faint moaning coming from the guest room, followed by the unmistakable squeaking of bedsprings.

A feminine "Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh . . ." was countered by a male voice going "uh, uh, uh, uh, uh . . ."

Harry looked at Hermione, eyebrows raised, grinning like a madman, she grinned back in like manner and together they all but ran to the master bedroom. They were going to make some noise of their own, but with one difference.

Harry knew a few good silencing charms.

ooo000ooo

Author's note: in Great Britain garter belts are called suspenders. The line "If this is torture, chain me to the wall is from Oliver and Company.


	13. Chapter 13: Rides and Revelations

Chapter 13: Rides and Revelations

They all but ran into the Master bedroom and closed the door; Harry set up the silencing charms and turned to his fiancé.

"Harry," she asked, "do you trust me?"

"With my heart and soul love."

"Strip!" she ordered.

He did, striking a series of teasing poses as he slowly undressed.

Hermione removed her blouse and skirt, leaving her in the white lace and stockings he had seen earlier in the day. She left her heels on as well.

"Lie on the bed, on your back" she directed, then reached into the top drawer of her dresser and removed four silk cords, like curtain cords."

"Are you sure you trust me?"

"With my very life."

She bound his wrists and ankles, albeit loosely, to the four posts of their queen-sized bed, then placed a blindfold around his eyes. Then she began to walk back and forth around the bed, kissing and caressing random parts of his anatomy, "Hermione," he rasped, "please?"

"Patience lover" she cooed and straddled him, then reached down to remove his blindfold.

She sat on his midsection still in her bra and stockings, her lace knickers were nowhere to be seen.

"Tomorrow while we're out I'm going to wear my stockings and suspenders with no knickers," she said, her voice silky, "anytime you want, during the day, you will be able to reach under my skirt and touch me."

He groaned at the mental image.

"I'm going to bring you off with just my mouth and my hands Harry, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

"Turn around," he whispered hoarsely, "Let me do you as well . . . please?"

As she was bringing Harry close to release her own pudendum was achingly close to Harry's mouth, but not quite touching, he groaned in frustration.

"Fuck!" he cried and the bonds on his hands loosened completely. He used his newly won freedom to prop his head up on a pillow; he then grasped her hips and slid her back so that he could employ his own talented tongue.

She 'hummmed' her approval and that was almost enough to make him loose it.

Minerva McGonagall's lecture came back to Harry as he probed her depths with his tongue, "transfiguration is less about wand movement and incantation then it is about intent, see the beetle while it's still a button and you will be able to make it so!"

He imagined his tongue, long and warm and firm and wet, penetrating his lover's depths.

Fact: the average tongue can extend beyond the wide open mouth to a length of perhaps three centimeters (slightly more than an inch), but with the proper application of intent-driven magic Harry's tongue was protruding fifteen centimeters from his lips, a curling mass of self lubricating wriggling badge borer!

Hermione shrieked around his cock as she was penetrated by his prehensile tongue and was barely able to pull off as he pleasured her with his newfound lingual talent!

She began to rock back onto his face, "oh Goddess, oh Morgana, oh Maeve, oh _Haaarry!_" she screamed at the top of her lungs; then collapsed onto him.

He pulled his tongue from its nesting place and concentrated on restoring it to its normal size. When it was just long enough to touch the tip of his nose he guessed it was alright.

Her head popped up as she realized she'd just been fucked unconscious by his tongue!

"You cheated!" she shrieked as she spun around to face him, bouncing on his abs, "I was supposed to be getting _you_ off!"

He placed his hands behind his head and smirked "ah, but nothing gives me more pleasure than to give you pleasure . . ."

She reached behind her and grabbed 'Harry junior' at her entrance, then pushed back – hard!

Harry groaned as their pubic bones touched, Hermione sat there, apparently still as she mumbled what sounded like an incantation. Then she stared into Harry's eyes and groaned "I'm gonna wear you out Potter!" then she closed her eyes, face screwed up in concentration and intoned _"vagina peristalsia!"_

She leaned forward and murmured "you like?" when he nodded frantically she said, "Then make some noise lover, tell the world!"

"Jeee-ay-zuz Mione! That's too hot, baby I'm almost there, almost there here it comes! Aaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhhhh!"

When they were both coherent again Harry chuckled, "it's a good thing we put up silencing wards!"

Hermione smirked, "who says I didn't take em' down?"

At Harry's horrified expression she said "It would serve em' right, don't cha think?"

"Oh, you are and evil, evil woman!"

"And I'm all yours, love" she cooed, settling down to rest on his chest.

They slept until nearly mid-morning when the duvet levitated over their still joined bodies.

"Your in-laws are up sir, ma'am, it would be in good form for you to dress and join them."

"Thank you Meacham" they both said from under the duvet.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Carry me?" she pleaded.

He lifted her as he had before and walk-carried her to the shower where they enjoyed a quick coupling and a nice rinse.

"Good morning you two," Hermione said as they entered the small dining room, "Sleep well?"

Emma looked dreamy, "better than I have in years, thanks, that is one comfy bed."

"Have to do something about those springs though . . ." Hermione murmured, loud enough for her parents to hear.

Dan did a spit-take in his coffee and nearly choked as some went down the wrong pipe.

Emma pounded him on his back while Meacham magically cleaned the coffee from the table.

When Hermione's father could catch his breath he mock-glared at her and asked "who is this _evil_ child?"

Both couples had a good laugh over that.

"Oh Dad, I think it's great that you and Mum still love each other that way, I'll bet you would have had a house full of kids by now if, well . . ."

Emma forced a pained smile, "well, we can wait a few years and then we'll have grandchildren to spoil."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, "um, would you be averse to trying a little, well, magic?"

"What do you mean, son?" Emma asked.

"I'll let Hermione tell you, more coffee Dad?"

Mr. Granger took the hint and joined Harry in the kitchen.

Over a fresh pot of coffee Harry explained about Rowena's healing jewel, how it could heal and restore internal injuries. How the jewel had actually corrected his vision. He assumed, correctly, that Hermione was explaining the same thing to her Mum.

"We'll think about it" the Grangers both agreed when the men returned to the dining room.

"Son, how would you like your first driving lesson?" Dan asked.

"Really?"

"Do you have helmets?"

"Um, I don't know."

"Not to worry, if needs be we can pick some up on the way out of town."

The men went into the carriage house where there were indeed two matching helmets on a shelf, as well as two self-sizing leather jackets.

Under the shelf were two pairs of boots made from exotic leather.

"Looks like snakeskin" Dan commented.

"Dragon hide" Harry observed.

"Are you sure?"

Harry thought back to Norbert, then the Hugarian Horntail he'd faced in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and shrugged, "pretty sure."

"We'll ride pillion at first, to give you a feel for it."

Meacham opened the carriage house doors that emptied into the alley as Dan, with Harry on the back, rumbled smoothly into traffic. Emma and Hermione followed in the family's Mercedes. They navigated the roundabout and headed north out of the city. Taking the A1000 out of the city, they passed through Potter's Bar and Brookman's Park, where they headed further north on B158, a relatively un-traveled secondary road. Ten clicks out of town Dan pulled over to the side, Emma parked behind them.

The two men spent about a half hour going over clutch, gearshift, brakes, rules of the road and some good motorcycle common sense.

"Your turn" Dan said, tossing Harry the keys.

Harry took to the Triumph Trident as easily as he had taken to his first broom; it was in fact the closest sensation one could get to the feeling of riding a broom without leaving the ground. He rode singly, then pillion with Dan, then Emma, then finally Hermione, who hugged him tightly as he motored down the road. They merged with A414 and headed west to Hertford, where Dan and Emma had their home and practice.

The two couples enjoyed an early lunch, after which Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes, mounted the Triumph and headed back to Grimauld Place.

"Faster," she screamed through the helmet's faceplate, "go faster!"

Harry grinned and downshifted before applying more throttle, which brought the midnight blue bike to well over 150 km/h in just under a second. They both thrilled to the acceleration, the speed; as did the traffic cop on A414.

"Shite!" he said, "Hang on Hermione!"

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wand, then rocketed around the bend to B158. As soon as the police car was gone from his rear-view mirror Harry disillusioned both himself and Hermione, then the bike. He let go the throttle and pulled over.

Within a few seconds the police car went screaming by as the two Bobbies within looked all around for the missing motorcycle.

"Whew," Harry said, "that was too close."

"Harry" Hermione asked, "didn't you say before that this bike could fly?"

"Um, yeah, but I don't know how."

"Well, how does a broom fly?"

"Oh that's easy, you just think 'up!' and next thing you know, you're flying."

"Well, why not give it a go?"

Harry looked skeptical but decided, "why not?"

They pulled back onto the road where Harry leaned slightly forward as he would if he were on a broomstick and urged the Triumph into the air.

"Higher" Hermione screamed, "go higher!"

Harry grinned again and urged the bike to greater heights.

"Look at that!" Hermione squealed, pointing at the Bobbies below, they had evidently set up a road block intending to catch the motorcycle miscreants. They shared a laugh over that as Harry followed the roads home. Near Grimauld Place he set the big bike down, de-disillusioned it and himself and Hermione, then motored into the alley with his fiancé plastered to him like a second skin. Meacham was in the alley holding the carriage house doors open.

Neither Harry nor Hermione nor Meacham noticed the watchful black amorphous shape perfectly camouflaged in the shadows.

They settled into the library, their favorite room in the house where Meacham brought them tea.

"I need to see Judge Vance tomorrow; and Minister Scrimgeour sometime this week," Harry said.

"You really are going to need a social secretary Harry" Hermione said. Then she noticed him frowning "what is it?"

"I was thinking about something, several somethings actually" he answered, "I've lived my life since my first year at Hogwart's just knowing that I was going to have to face Riddle, I never actually expected to survive that, y'know?"

She nodded her head sadly.

"Now I'm free of him, and I'd like to maybe go somewhere and celebrate that freedom."

"Well, we seem to have an island in the Caribbean _and_ a mountain home in Canada. Would you rather have warm tropical breezes or cozy up in front of a fire?"

"Let's just get through this week first, okay?"

He started looking around for the book he had been reading and she said, "On the table next to the big comfy couch."

"How did you do that?"

"Dunno, I just guessed you were looking for your book."

He gathered her up in a gentle embrace "already acting like old married folks; I love it, and I love you most of all, Mrs. Potter."

They settled onto the BCC ("Big Comfy Couch") this time with Hermione sitting upright, balancing her book on the arm of the couch as Harry lay with his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his unruly hair when she didn't need them to turn a page. He was soon fast asleep.

Harry walked into a familiar looking alleyway where he saw a small girl, perhaps ten or eleven years old crouched on the ground. She was dressed in a primary school uniform and had an incredibly frizzy mop of brown hair. She was facing the wall and sobbing into her arms.

"Hello little one, are you lost?"

"Y-yes, and I'm all alone, and I'm tired and I'm hungry!" she cried.

"Do you live around here?"

"I don't know" her shoulders shook, "I don't think so."

"What's your name little one?"

"I don't know that either, I used to have a name but someone _stole_ it!"

Harry chuckled, "how can someone steal your name?"

"I dunno, but she did, and I want it back."

"Will you come with me, maybe we can find a policeman and he can find your name" he suggested.

The little girl nodded her head and began to rise to her feet, as she did she grew from a little girl to a teen to a young woman, when she turned to face him it was an emaciated Hermione Granger, her skin parchment white, with dark circles ringing her protruding eyes.

"Please" she croaked, "I haven't much time, Harry, _please help me!_"

Her face became skull-like as a black shroud began to cover her features and she became the dementor that had been stalking them.

"HERMIONE; NOOOOOOO!"

Harry sat up on the couch, breathing raggedly, relieved to see Hermione sitting there, wide eyed; she'd apparently been crying.

He leaned toward her to hold her, to reassure her, to remind himself that she was really there only to stop in shock as she scuttled away from him.

"Mione?" he asked, frightened by her reaction, "Mione, it's alright, it was a dream . . ."

He looked down at his still shaking hands.

". . . a nightmare!"

"Cliodna commands me, my love, and I must obey" she said, tears flowing down her face.

"Hermione?"

She shook her head.

"What do you mean no?" he asked, frightened for her.

"No" she sobbed, "_not_ Hermione!"

"Of course you're Hermione" Harry insisted.

"Are you sure; are you really?" she cried.

"You know I am!" he said, starting to get angry.

"No" she sniffed, "no you're not."

She gazed into his eyes, his beautiful green eyes and removed the engagement ring from her finger.

"I can't accept this Harry; I'm not who you think I am."

"Hermione please!" he was really getting angry now "don't do this, you're scaring me!"

"I told you Harry, not Hermione."

She bowed her head.

"Hermione is gone."

She extended her hand, the engagement ring in her thumb and forefinger, offering it to Harry.

"I'm Myrtle."

Harry's shoulders drooped; he accepted the ring, then took her left hand and placed it back on her third finger. His haunted green eyes looked up into her unbelieving dark brown ones.

"I know."


	14. Chapter 14: Myrtle's Story

Chapter 14: Myrtle's Story

_ i Harry stumbled up the steps as fast as his shattered bones would allow, past Voldemort's battered and broken body, and found Dementors floating over the prone forms of Hermione and Ron._

"_No!" Harry screamed. He threw his hands straight out in front of him and the nearest dementor, the one hovering over Ron, burst into flame and began to writhe in apparent agony. Harry turned his glare to the other Dementor who quickly dove over the battlements and away from the wall._

_Harry ran to his two best friends. "Oh no, oh no, oh please by all that's holy, no!"_

_Neither Ron nor Hermione were there anymore. Their essences, their souls, everything that made them special, unique, was gone._

"_Oh, what a pity. I would have liked to have killed the dirt vein myself."_

_It just wasn't fair. Couldn't that miserable snake shite just fucking die already?_

_Dobby appeared between Harry and the Dark Lord again._

"_You shall not harm Harry Potter!"_

"_Harm him? You pathetic little vermin, I've destroyed him! Just look."_

_And Dobby did._

_Harry Potter was seated on the cold stone deck of the rampart, one knee bent, his splinted leg straight. He was cradling Hermione's unresponsive head against his chest, rocking it gently back and forth. With tear-filled eyes, he looked up to Voldemort and simply said, "Kill me." /i _

Myrtle saw that Harry was crushed; drowning in grief for the loss of those he loved more than his own life. He was begging to die. The little ghost didn't even pause to think as she phased into the stone deck, then came up beneath and then into Hermione's body. If she could possess her soulless husk, make Harry believe he hadn't actually lost her. Maybe, just maybe, he would fight for his life, and hers.

As Riddle began to gloat she became aware of her body, nearly overcome with the senses of a breathing flesh and blood body after fifty years, and she croaked out "no!"

Harry's disbelieving voice, trembled with hope. "Hermione?" he asked, begging for a miracle.

She saw Harry for the first time through living eyes and whispered, "On three, hit him with a flame hex. Ready . . . one, two, i _three_! /i "

Driven by and for the love of a girl who was gone, Harry had beaten the latest Dark Lord

Myrtle saw the vacant expressions in the faces of all the Kissed and it pained her to know she couldn't just stay in Hermione's body. It wasn't her life, it wasn't her body. She had to give it back. But give it back to whom? When she left this body there would be no one to live in it; it would be just another soulless shell. Surely it wouldn't matter if she just, well, 'visited' a bit longer? She could i _eat /i _ again! Maybe she could finally actually experience the joy's of physical intimacy – Goddess knows she'd been watching other people enjoying each other for fifty years; hadn't she earned a turn? Five decades of study and observation convinced Myrtle that she'd be a phenomenal lover. As things stood at the moment she was a sixty-five year old virgin for goddess's sake!

She walked with Harry. It felt good to walk, to feel solid ground beneath her feet again. It was a joy to breathe in and out, to feel the pulse points in her body, to feel warm. That had been the worst thing about her non-corporeal form - she couldn't really i _feel /i _ as a ghost.

Harry was speaking with a healer, asking about the dementor-kissed patients. Another rediscovered feeling came over her, fatigue. When was the last time this body had rested? She recognized the Weasley girl even with her shorn head and thought her idea of taking care of the Kissed was a good one. She noticed a comfy looking stuffed chair in a corner. Maybe someone had brought it in so that visitors would have a comfortable wait as their loved ones were tended to. She sat, sinking into the soft cushions and decided to 'rest her eyes' for just a little while.

It was late afternoon when she woke up.

Myrtle surveyed the room through Hermione's eyes and thought, "This is as good a time as any, I suppose. Goddess knows I'll hate leaving this body but . . ."

The spirit of Myrtle Frisbee concentrated on phasing out of her host's body. It had been easy to leave the inferi; she'd just had to will herself away. She closed Hermione's eyes and concentrated on flowing out, willing herself to become just a phantom again – and found that she couldn't. When she had been 'driving' the inferi, she'd been aware of certain contact points, arms, legs, feet and hands; however, from the moment she had entered the dementor-kissed shell that had been Hermione Granger, she'd incorporated all of the girl's senses. It had been like moving into a beautifully appointed and fully furnished home, and now she was locked in. It wasn't that she didn't want to leave, she wasn't _able_ to!

For some inexplicable reason Myrtle's soul was trapped in Hermione Granger's body.

She looked around in a panic for Harry but couldn't see him. She accidentally bumped into Healer Jones. "Have you seen Harry?"

"He went to the ministry, I believe."

She found the nearest fireplace in Professor Flitwick's office and nearly fell over into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. She saw the information booth and asked about Harry.

"Harry Potter?" a passing intern asked.

"Yes" she said, breathless. "Have you seen him?"

"Yes, Miss. He was talking with Judge Vance, the Chief Warlock – I saw them go out for dinner together, but the judge came back alone."

"Any idea where the judge goes for dinner?"

"I'm just guessing mind you, but I'm thinking Diagon Alley?"

She thanked the young man and headed for the floo connection to the Leaky Cauldron.

She managed to step out of the fireplace in the popular pub a little more gracefully than she had before and was immediately cheered and toasted by a large crowd of patrons.

"Lads," the voice was that of Tom the barman. "I give you Miss Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age - or of any age if it comes to that!"

"Hear, hear!" A tall glass of something amber, effervescent, and cool was pressed into her hands.

"Oh my," she thought as she held her first drink. She gave it an experimental sip, and found it delicious.

"Longbow Cider - your favorite, Miss Granger." Tom winked.

She asked if anyone had seen Harry, but no one had. "Funny though . . . There was a young man, looked summat like our Harry, but he didn't wear glasses and his hair was long. He tipped a few and headed into the Alley."

She 'tipped a few' herself and, properly fortified, went in search of her raven haired quarry.

As she stepped through the entrance to Diagon Alley, the noise nearly pushed her back out again. The party was in full swing; there seemed to be a continuous bombardment of fireworks whizzing overhead, and the potent potables flowed like water from every shop and ground floor apartment.

"Hermione?" asked a slightly out of focus voice.

"Um, no, sorry, I just look a little like her . . ." It wasn't exactly a lie; she looked exactly like Hermione, but she just wasn't.

"Oh, sorry, um, here . . ." The slurred face grinned as he handed her a bottle of i _something_. /i 

"Um, thanks," she said, but didn't drink it. "What is it?"

The fuzzy lad, Seamus, looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged his shoulders and said "Tis' green!" before fumbling away.

She wasn't that drunk that she would try some strange potable in a green bottle. It just didn't sound safe. She binned the bottle and went in search of more cider.

She had just scored her third tall glass of chilled Woodpecker Cider when she turned and nearly collided with Harry.

"Har-"

Harry shushed his bushy haired best friend and said, "Nope, sorry. You've got the wrong guy. I just look a bit like him, I've been told."

"Thas' okay. Someone said I look just like that Granger girl. S' funny innit?" she said with a conspiratorial wink.

His eyes seemed slightly out of focus. Rowena's Healing Jewel may have fixed his eyesight but it could still be fogged by alcohol.

"Um, why don't we get away from all this noise and find out who we are?"

"Sounds great to me."

They passed out of Diagon Alley and stumbled, mostly from trying to support each other, through the Leaky Cauldron.

"Steady on there, now there's a happy couple. Have a drink. Here's to youth and romance and all that goes with it - drink up, drink up. . ."

They stumbled out the door onto the equally raucous London street and one of them, they weren't quite sure, stuck out his or her wand - or maybe it was each other's wands? - and anyway the Knight Bus banged into existence, screeching to a halt sideways at the entrance to the cauldron.

"Ernie, are you okay t' drive?"

"Course I am. Haven't touched a drop - but not too many other folks are abstainin' just now. Takin' your life in your hands t' be on the road tonight!"

Harry gave Stan Shunpike the address and they almost made it to their seats without stumbling. The world was spinning like floo travel, and Myrtle wasn't sure if it was because of all the alcohol they'd consumed or Ernie's driving.

"Firs' stop, Grim Old Place!" the conductor called out.

This was surprising to Myrtle because she felt as though they were still moving.

The young couple stepped carefully off the steps, trying to appear composed and sober. When the brunette stumbled on the cobblestone street and fell against Harry, they both snorted in the beginnings of a snorting, chortling jag.

"Number Twelve Grimauld Place!" Harry called out and the townhouse appeared, elbowing numbers ten and thirteen out of the way as it settled itself comfortably between them. It took three tries before they could make it to the top of the four steps and the landing. They burst through the front door and nearly knocked over the little old man who was standing just behind the door. They were about to apologize when the man faded from sight and the mirth descended upon them anew.

She and Harry laughed themselves out and found that they were nose to nose. She was backed up against the wall, while he had a hand on either side of her head, leaning in toward her flushed face. She cupped his hands in her own and whispered a brief incantation that had two effects: first, it neutralized the alcohol in their blood and second, it made him feel very warm and very _welcome_. Myrtle knew she could easily get lost in those deep emerald green eyes as they gravitated toward each other.

Their lips touched, soft and moist. She plastered her soft warm body against his and pressed her lips tightly against his. She felt the tip of his tongue touch her lips seeking entry, and she parted her lips slightly so that he could touch her teeth with the tip of his tongue. She opened herself up further and soon they were tongue wrestling as she worked the buttons on his shirt. She made an exasperated "humph!" as the buttons frustrated her.

"To hell with patience!" she groused and simply pulled the shirt open, popping half his buttons in her impatience to feel skin.

She loved the feel of his hand in her hair, the other caressing her back and side. But she wanted those hands somewhere else just now. She pulled her shirttail out of her skirt and directed his hand under the fabric, placing it on the underside of her sheer bra.

"I don't think-" he started to say. She stopped him with a quick passionate kiss.

"Don't think, i _feel, /i _" she insisted as she brought his other hand down to rest on her other breast, and then proceeded to try to find his tonsils.

She pulled back just long enough to say, "Bedroom, i _now! /i _"

Harry looked into Hermione's dark brown eyes, searching for something, or perhaps someone. Her eye's looked back and recognized saw so many emotions reflected in them, pleading, need, lust yes but something deeper. In a moment of magically induced clarity he saw it – saw that he was looking at his future and providence was not going to be denied. He argued for just a moment with his conscience then picked her up and nearly ran to the second floor master where he placed her gently down on the king-sized mattress. Neither one saw the door close silently behind them. Nor did either one of them register that the room was lit by the soft light of the Ever-Lit candles. They only had eyes, lips, fingertips and tongues for each other.

"I love you Herm – mumph," he said as she kissed him roundly.

"I will always love you Harry," she countered.

She was lying atop him, her head over his left shoulder breathing heavily against his neck while his hand roamed over her back, coming to rest on her bum. She thrust her hips against him, eliciting an impressive response as Harry's member rose to the occasion.

They both groaned at the sensations. Harry found the button and zipper on the side of her skirt and was able unfasten and unzip it, which allowed him to push the skirt over her knickers-clad bum. The sensible cotton briefs were soft to his touch and he massaged her nicely rounded buttocks for a while as she continued to grind against him. She groaned again as he slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband to caress her warm, pliant skin.

"Don't move my love," she insisted as she rolled off him so that she could divest herself of her skirt and knickers. She snuggled up to his side so that she could trace his hardness through his trousers. She unbuttoned and unzipped the interfering garment then tugged at the sides of his boxers and slacks. He got the hint and bowed slightly up so that she could clear his bum and free his rather impressive arousal from its durance vile.

They were more than a little impatient, so the concept of unlacing shoes escaped them. Oh well, all she i _really /i _ needed to do was to pull him over her – his legs could stay together, i _hers /i _ needed room to spread.

With one smooth movement she slid her leg over his recumbent form and straddled his waist. She had to rise up as high as she could on her knees to place the tip of his member at her warm, wet entrance. She pushed back, welcoming the sting, welcoming him. They both groaned as they bottomed out, pubic bones touching.

She realized that this was what she had been existing for from the time she first saw him: to join their hearts, their bodies, and especially their magic. She squeezed his length with the muscles of her abdomen as she rose up, then came crashing down on him again and again and again.

The simultaneous release of hormones, adoration, and soul-binding enchantments overwhelmed them, and she leaned forward to sprawl comfortably over him. Her head rested on his chest while her legs still straddled his. Comfortably and obscenely lying there with the tip of Harry's erection still snug within her, she sighed and drifted off to sleep.

She woke the next morning to the delicious feeling of Harry, still sleeping mind you, slowly penetrating her, stroking a few inches in and out; moving purely by instinct.

"Oh Medb, let us wake every morning like this!"

They had made love yet again that morning; then, as she was alone in the shower she was overcome by guilt and shame. Myrtle was deceiving the man she loved, and it was breaking her heart. She collapsed in tears. She was sitting on the shower floor, crying when Harry found her. She could have told him the truth then, but she let herself be soothed and calmed by him and made love to him again.

Later that morning they were introduced to Meacham, and soon began experiencing life as a couple, starting with exploring Harry's house. Myrtle was thrilled to find the attic studio, and had to redirect Harry's curiosity about her dance lessons. Hermione didn't dance.

They had made love twice that afternoon - once in a guest bedroom and once in the library. Who would have thought Harry had it in him to satisfy her bibliophile urges?

It was a perfect day until they stepped outside and i _it /i _ was waiting for them.

The lone Dementor.

Harry didn't recognize it at first, but Myrtle did. It was the same soul sucking demon that had taken Hermione. Now it wanted her.

Then that first trip to Gringotts, and the revelation that she and Harry were mate-bonded, which was as good as married in Goblin society. Harry had begun to call her 'Mrs. Potter,' and he became Mrs. Potter's mister.

That afternoon they were in Madame Malkin's he had proposed out of the blue, and Myrtle became enmeshed even more deeply in the lie. She could have said no - she should have said no - but there was no denying the pleading in his eyes. Of course she had said yes.

She almost told him that evening, as they cuddled on the library couch. Instead, she gave into her sexual urges several times that night.

She had met Hermione's parents the next day and was a little saddened that they didn't know they'd lost their little girl. Once or twice she'd almost confided in Mrs. Granger, she of the discerning eye.

"Lemon in your tea, dear?" she'd asked. "Haven't you always preferred milk?"

"Outside in, dear," Mrs. Granger had admonished. "The outside fork for your salad."

At the end of the day (which didn't come until the next day) she'd been treated like a true daughter, something that she hadn't experienced in her original short lifetime.

They had just returned from the Grangers and settled into the couch for a nice little read and nap, when she'd been visited by Cliodna.

Harry had gone to sleep and Myrtle had rested her head on the comfy couch pillows when Cliodna, the spirit of the Goddess of the afterlife had come to her.

"Myrtle Frisbee," the Goddess had said, not unkindly, "you must forego your deception."

Myrtle looked around to make sure she was still in her library and that Harry was still asleep with his head in her lap.

"He is receiving a visitor of his own now, and you must choose."

"What must I choose Goddess?" she asked, more than a little frightened.

"You must choose the manner in which you will break this good man's heart."

Harry sat up screaming.

Harry had known, from the time their magic combined on that first night, that he wasn't really with Hermione, and he had just replaced the engagement ring on Myrtle's finger.

"I've been waiting for you to admit it for the past few days now, I needed you to be honest with me and now I know I was right. I've come to love you, really love you, Mrs. Potter - Mrs. i _Myrtle /i _ Potter," he smiled weakly. "But i _she's /i _ out there and if there's anything I can do to help her I've got to try. Please understand" he entreated as a single tear traced down his cheek.

Myrtle sobbed and nodded her head to show she understood. He removed the Potter and Black family rings and placed them in her hands.

"Meacham," he called silently.

"Yes, sir?" He appeared, like usual, out of thin air.

"Meacham, can you take dictation?"

"Yes sir," he replied, and produced a quill and parchment.

"I, Harry James Potter, being of sound mind and body, do bestow upon my Mate-bonded spouse, Hermione Jane Potter, all my worldly goods and titles in the event of my untimely demise. If I am not dead, but found to be no longer capable of handling my own affairs my bondmate, no, my i wife /i shall hold from this day forth full power of attorney to carry on in my stead. This I vow on my magic and my life."

Myrtle's eyes grew wide at this. "Why?"

"Because I know what I must do, Mrs. Potter luv" he said with a sad smile, "and I want you well looked after."

"Harry, you're alarming your wife," she said, nervously. "What are you thinking of doing now?"

"That dementor; the one that's been following us?" he asked.

"It's the same one that kissed Hermione," she answered.

He nodded. "Somehow Hermione is still there, and I'm going in after her. One way or another, we're going to be together and you will have the life that was stolen from you so long ago."

"Harry, i _no_! /i " She shrieked as he pointed his wand and said, i "_Stupefy_." /i 

He laid her prone form gently on the couch and kissed her goodbye. Harry went out of the library, through the kitchen, out the carriage house and into the alley where he knew a Dementor waited for him.

center ooo000ooo /center 

Author's note, as always a big 'Thanx' to my beloved beta Great Writer Sarah who returned this in record time. I suspect time-turner usage.

So Harry's known all along. Why did he play along? Stay tuned!

N!


	15. Chapter 15: Noir

Chapter 15: Noir

Harry walked into the alley behind Number 12 Grimauld Place and stood away from the wall in clear view; illuminated by the reflected late afternoon sunlight. The shadows were in sharp contrast to the harsh light; one shadow was beyond dark. Disturbing blackness so complete he couldn't see where the brickwork wall formed an angle with the cobblestone alley driveway.

His plan was simple, let the dementor take his soul, and then somehow he and Hermione would escape. How? Well, the details were a bit iffy, but he was sure his bushy haired best friend would think of something. She always had before.

"I know who you are and I know what you are, I'm not here to fight, I'm here to talk" he said, without emotion, "let's see if we can't make some kind of deal, c'mon out."

"I can't" a little girl's voice answered from the shadows, "the light hurts."

Harry sighed and stepped into the shadows.

"Hermione?" he asked.

The thing that held Hermione's soul let Harry see her eleven year old self crouched in the shadows.

"So cold," she whined, "so hungry."

He knelt down in front of the tiny girl just out of her reach "can I bring you something, a sarnie perhaps?"

Hermione, even as a small girl, had a look that made you know you had just asked the dumbest question in the world.

"I'm sorry Mione," he apologized, "I don't know what to do here."

"If my host doesn't feed soon it won't matter Harry, we'll both be just, _gone_" the little girl sounded resigned; her pale face looked almost skeletal.

"I won't let that happen Hermione," he promised, "I'll feed it myself before I let that happen."

"She just trembled" the little girl said, "I think she likes that idea." Young Hermione looked down at her feet, "she knows all about you Harry, she has all my memories of you."

"She?"

Hermione nodded "dementors take on the gender of their most recent 'soul,' and since I was my host's last soul meal . . ."

"Hermione, how is it that you're not, well, _eaten_?"

"I'm not sure about that" the little girl said, "and neither is Noir."

"Noir?" Harry asked.

"It's what I call her, it means 'dark' or 'black' as in 'film noir,' it just seems appropriate."

"Is there some way to feed Noir?"

"We need a dark place with lots of people, the more the better, the more angry or emotional the better," the little girl shivered and Harry moved closer.

"No," she warned, "She'll try to get you if you come too close."

"I'm gonna let her have me anyway, that's why I'm here."

"No Harry, I won't let you, I can't let her take you. I _will be_ the one in control here; she's weaker than I am."

He disregarded her warning and settled beside her so that he could wrap his arm around her. The little girl sighed and snuggled into his embrace.

"I've got an idea" he said, making himself as comfortable as possible against the brick and cobblestones "it'll be dark soon and I might know a place where Noir can feed."

They sat and talked, Hermione/Noir described 'shadowing,' the ability to completely disappear into a shadow and other things dementor related.

"I've learned so much about essensentials, Harry."

"Is that what they call themselves?" he asked.

"It's what we are," she explained, "essensentials are extradimensional, not from this Earth, not even from this reality. The first of our kind became trapped here when a witch tried to charm her husband – apparently he was cold and distant toward her and she was trying to put some passion back in their marriage. What she got was a frightened young essensential that defended itself the only way it knew how. When the aurors arrived on the scene the witch was, well, you know. Her husband was completely shattered by the consequences of his wife's actions, he held her unresponsive hands in his own and begged her over and over again to "come back, please come back, please, please. . . .

"The aurors called in the unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries who managed to trap the young one and took it back to the Ministry for study.

"Oh Harry," she sobbed, "no one tried to really talk with it, they just ran spell after spell, trying to see what made it tick. The unspeakables finally pushed and provoked it so much that it feasted on its tormentor. That was the second dementor's kiss in this dimension, the witch who summoned it had been the first.

"The unspeakables realized that they had a unique weapon, if they could only control it. They learned that their test subject was an emotivore; that it fed on raw emotion, not just happiness. Emotivores feed on emotions, feelings, passions; the stronger the better, but the ministry needed it to be a weapon, so they trained it to feed on happiness until it became unable to eat anything else.

"They brought in condemned prisoners and forced it to feed on them until it became overstuffed with emotions and dissolved into a grey mist. The researchers shrugged their shoulders and chalked it up to experience. Imagine their surprise and delight when, after two days, there were two emotivores, _hungry_ emotivores where there had only been one.

"Essensentials are not monsters Harry," she explained very carefully, "at least, we weren't before those bastards took us and warped our natural behaviors to meet their own twisted agenda!"

Hermione/Noir finished her story as the sun dipped below the horizon. Harry stood and held out his had to his best friend.

"Ever ridden on a motorcycle before?"

She trembled, "no, and I think I'd rather not."

"C'mon, it'll be fun, you rode Buckbeak, and you rode a thestral to the Ministry last year."

"Both times I was with you, and both times I thought I was going to fill my boots!"

"You'll be with me again, c'mon, please?"

She sighed and accepted the self-sizing leather jacket and boots.

Before long they were motoring in the direction of Southeast London, Lewisham road. Harry pulled up to a seedy looking 'sports bar' called _Pitchers_ and got off the bike. He helped Hermione slide off and secured the Triumph to a broken signpost.

They walked into the crowded pub where highlights from the past summer's FIFA World Cup were playing on various screens around the room. Harry ordered a fizzy drink for Hermione and a stout for himself. Most of the action was on the largest screen over the bar, which was replaying the 1998 England Argentina match.

"Oh perfect!" Harry mused, and smiled.

With the score even at 2-2 and the second half just begun, England's midfielder David Beckham had been tackled hard by Argentina's captain Diego Simeone, who'd landed on Beckham's back. Beckham retaliated by kicking Simeone, earning a red card and changing the momentum of the match.

The English played valiantly the rest of the way with just 10 men, but there is no telling what might have happened had Beckham been given just a yellow card. The English _had_ been the aggressors for most of the match up until that point, and they had to play more for the long ball the rest of the way.

Harry lifted Hermione over the bar and whispered "stay down," then stood up and said a bit too loudly; "I wonder how much Beckham got for throwing that match?"

What followed was a classic barroom brawl, Harry ducked the first punch, which landed on the guy who was at the bar next to him and the mêlée ensued, punches, kicks, screams, furniture flying, and glass breaking.

Hermione's face had a beatific expression as she and Noir absorbed all the raw emotion of the group.

Harry ducked one punch but that put his face in the perfect position to catch another and he was laid out next to the bar. He looked up and saw Hermione looking a bit older and a lot better fed, "How much more d'you need?" he asked.

"Could do with a bit more" she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Harry groaned and rejoined the brouhaha. His auror training made him hard to hit, but there were enough missiles flying around that it was impossible to not catch the odd pool cue or fist or foot for that matter as the fight grew to near riot proportions.

Someone blew a whistle and the Pitcher's patrons started running helter-skelter out of the bar.

Hermione took Harry's hand and ran out the door just as two Bobbies grabbed him, one at each shoulder.

Hermione's voice grew unearthly as she faced the policemen and growled _"let him go!"_

"Sorry darling, this one's for the wagon, we ear' tell e's the one whot started it!"

Hermione slipped the dragon hide jacket off her shoulders, levitated out of the matching boots and let Noir take over morphing into full dementor form.

Both policemen suddenly remembered other suspects, in other parts of the city - all of whom had a much, _much_ higher priority than this barroom brawler.

"Hmmm," Harry mused, "apparently muggles can see a dementor, um, an essensential if it _wants_ them to."

As Noir drifted into the alley Harry unlocked the Triumph and waited until Hermione drifted out, looking a good deal more like her 18 year old self. He helped her on with the jacket as she slipped effortlessly into the boots. She looked _good_ in the school uniform under the leather jacket. The dragon hide boots conformed to her shapely calves making the ensemble very punk/schoolgirl hot! The fact that she was, well, _gliding_ rather than walking was a bit disconcerting.

They rode back to Grimauld Place lost in thought, the thrumming of the Trident's three cylinders filling the silence. As Harry directed the bike to the carriage house Meacham stood in the driveway holding the double doors open.

"Thank you Meacham" Harry said.

"Not at all sir" the old elf replied, "you'll be wanting to see Mrs. Potter straight away sir, I believe she will have matters to _discuss_ with you."

Harry shuddered; he hadn't expected to survive his encounter with the dementor that had been stalking them, now he was bringing that same soul sucker home.

"_Ohhhh Haaarrry! Joo gots some 'splainin t' do!"_

They'd just entered the small dining room when Hermione asked "_Mrs_. Potter?"

"Um, yes, well, y' see . . ." he started lamely, "I thought you were gone, y'know, Kissed and when . . ."

"I'm gone, what, four days and in your grief you get _married_?" Hermione was building up a head of steam now, and then she asked, almost too calmly "to whom?"

"Um, to you" he said trapping her with his sincere emerald eyes.

"You married my dementor kissed shell?" she said, aghast.

"Not married in the sense of "I Harry do take you Hermione to be my lawful wedded wife," he explained "we're, um, mate-bonded."

"Harry" she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, "the only way we could be mate-bonded is if we had . . ." her eyes grew wide in horror, _"you had sex with my inert body?"_

"NO!" he shouted, "I mean no, Hermione, you weren't inert, you were, um ert?"

"Harry, start making some sense or I swear I'm going to turn Noir loose!"

Before Harry could speak Hermione's voice screamed his name, only her voice was coming from another room.

He ran to the library where Myrtle was slowly rising on Hermione's unsteady legs, "Harry?" she repeated. He burst into the room to see his wife shaking off the effects of his stunner.

She nearly fell over as Harry rushed to catch her and hold her, "it's okay baby, shhh, shhh, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here."

"Oh Harry, I had this awful dream, you were fighting for your life and I wasn't there to protect you, and you stunned me and you . . ."

The realization came to her slowly, "you _stunned_ me."

"You would have tried to stop me" he said by way of a lame excuse.

"_You_ stunned me?"

"I wanted you safe . . ."

"You" her hands gripped his shirt front, "stunned" she pushed him out to arms length and let go with her right hand, holding his shirt front with her left, _"Me?"_

He nodded lamely and she smacked him, leaving a handprint on his left cheek.

Then she broke down in inarticulate tears sobbing into his chest even as she beat his arms and shoulders.

He just stood there and let her wear herself out.

Hermione cleared her throat from the door.

Harry turned around and said softly, "sweetheart, we have guests."

She looked up at him with disbelieving eyes, then at the doorway where Hermione stood.

"Myrtle, this is Hermione and Noir. Hermione, Noir, this is Myrtle Frisbee Potter, currently residing in your dementor kissed body."

As Hermione entered the library Myrtle cowered behind Harry.

"They won't hurt you sweetheart" he reassured her. Then he looked at the purposeful manner with which Hermione floated ominously into the room, "you _won't_ hurt her, will you?"

She glared at Myrtle.

"Um, Hermione," he asked "could you just, um, please _walk_ in the house? The gliding thing is a bit spooky."

"Sorry Harry, I didn't realize."

"Myrtle Frisbee Potter" Hermione asked "as in _Moaning_ Myrtle?"

She nodded.

Meacham appeared at Harry's elbow and whispered "parliamentary procedures, sir, take the ladies to the table and have it out."

He looked quizzically at his diminutive butler, who looked back and forth between the girls and Harry and then meaningfully at the library door.

Harry moved the two girls to the library table where he held out two chairs so they could face each other and have the table as a buffer between them as he sat at the head of the table keeping an eye on them both.

"Parliamentary procedures" Harry announced, figuring that Meacham knew what he was about, besides, as head of the house it seemed the thing to do, "Miss Hermione Granger has the floor, Hermione?"

"Myrtle" she asked, "start with why are you in my body; what gave you the right to take possession of it?"

"Well you weren't using it . . ."

"You do realize that I am in control of a fully fledged dementor and that I can suck your little ghost soul right out of _my_ body if I so choose?"

"Harry wouldn't let you!"

"Point of order" Harry interrupted, "Miss Granger still has the floor; do you concede the floor to Mrs. Potter."

"_Don't call her that!"_ she said in her distorted dementor voice, clearly agitated.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but we _are_ mate-bonded and in our own home she is my wife."

"Don't I get to say what happens to _my_ body anymore?"

"We'll discuss that too if you like, Meacham?"

The little butler read from the scroll he had been writing on and in Hermione's own voice he repeated "Don't I get to say what happens to _my_ body anymore?" Then in Harry's voice he read "We'll discuss that too if you like, Meacham?"

Hermione looked confused, "This is an actual meeting?"

"Hermione I am the head of two great houses, when I say 'Parliamentary Procedures' it becomes an actual meeting, any decisions we make will be legal and binding. Now, you still have the floor, do you yield?"

"I'll give up the floor if Ghost Girl here will just answer my question."

Three pairs of eyes turned to Myrtle.

She sat up defiantly and said, "If I hadn't, Harry would have died. Everyone would have died, and as I said before, you weren't using it!"

"What do you mean Harry would have died?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Oh what I wouldn't give for a penseive right now" Myrtle moaned.

"Meacham?" Harry asked.

"In the cellar sir." He said.

"Could you?"

Meacham looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry sir; we shall have to go to it. It's too heavy for me to carry and you can't summon something like a penseive because it contains so much magic. I'm afraid it will not react well to the direct application of charms."

"Could we put it in a box and just levitate the box?" Harry asked.

"_Levitate_" Meacham said; "_The_" he slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand _"Box!"_

The old elf faded from view then walked in a few moments later levitating a large wooden crate which he placed on the library table, then made the crate vanish leaving the penseive behind to wobble in place for a few moments.

Myrtle drew the appropriate memory from her temple and placed it into the penseive.

Harry and the girls placed their heads into the basin and found themselves on the battlements. Harry and Myrtle were both shocked to see Hermione standing there holding onto Noir's shoulder, restraining her.

"Noir, if I let you go will you stay with me?"

The dementor nodded and Hermione let go. The wraith floated in place.

An utterly defeated Harry Potter was cradling Hermione's apparently lifeless form against his chest and he was begging Voldemort to kill him.

"I couldn't let it happen, I had to do _something;_ so I took possession of your body to try to help Harry" Myrtle explained, then shrugged her shoulders, "I guess it worked."

"Have you tried to un-possess my body?"

"Yes," she said, with a sigh of relief, thankful that she had really tried to do the right thing. "I tried the very next day and I found that I am trapped, I'm sure Noir here could un-trap me but then I'd be gone and your body would still be just a shell."

They left the penseive and returned to the table.

"I yield the floor to _Mrs_. Potter" Hermione said wearily.

"Hermione, I've never heard of a soul being able to control a dementor, how are you doing this?"

"I honestly don't know," she sighed exasperatedly, "Ron and I were on the battlements when everything went black, when I came to there was a dementor, Noir here, with her face inches from my own and all I could think of was 'no.' No I will not go, you will not take me! Harry needs me! Ron needs me, my Mum and Dad need me and _you can't have me!_ I fought and struggled even as I felt my soul leaving my body behind I fought the shadows. I could see my body on the ground looking up at my pitiful efforts, I was fighting, but I was loosing. I was getting weaker and weaker; I knew I was going to be taken. Then, all of a sudden it was like I was seeing through new eyes. I became what I am now, whatever that is. I was about to try to get back into my own body when I saw Harry cast a wandless spell that made my fellow essensential scream in pain and horror, then he looked like he was about to cast the same spell at me and I panicked and flew over the battlements."

She took a deep breath, "I wandered around the shadows for a bit and then kind of blundered into the great hall where a dozen or so first years stung me with bright _lumos_ spells. I had to flee again. After a while I noticed the vents under the great hall and started listening and reaching out. I discovered then that I could inhabit dreams, I even sent a message to Harry by way of an auror's daydream, remember?"

"Friendship and bravery" he said, "very clever, how could I forget that?"

Hermione nodded, "after that we began to test each others boundaries."

"You and Noir?" Harry asked.

"Spot on" Hermione concurred, "she tried to assert control over me, or failing that to digest me but it seems she can't. For some inexplicable reason I'm indigestible.

After a while we formed a kind of truce, but she started to get weak – apparently I'm a parasite, I weaken her and she needs to feed more often than other dementors. I wouldn't let her feed on anyone in Hogwarts so we followed a healer through the floo to St. Mungo's where I remembered Grimauld Place. I knew you'd be back sooner or later. We even shadowed you to Diagon Alley yesterday."

"I remember" Harry said, shuddering at the memory, "why didn't you just try to talk to us?"

"Noir was preventing it, she feels especially threatened by you Harry; you're the first wizard she's ever seen who can actually destroy her kind. I did manage to find a bit of chalk on the sidewalk and leave you some runic clues."

"Friendship and bravery" he said.

"We had just about given up when you showed up in the alley, typical Gryffindor, more courage than brains." She placed her warm palm on his cheek, "thank you Harry."

She sat up straight in her chair and said "and the rest you know."

Myrtle interjected, "_I_ don't know the rest, what happened?"

Hermione smirked, "pretty much what you'd expect, Sir Galahad here was going to sacrifice himself in order to free me and spare you. He had no way of knowing that I'd become the controlling symbiot in our relationship."

"All I saw in the alley was a cold, hungry, frightened little girl. I've been cold and hungry and frightened myself, I had to try to help" he said with a shrug.

"We were in bad shape, Noir and I, and Harry came up with an idea to feed us."

"What do _you_ eat Hermione?"

"Apparently nothing, I'm totally dependent on Noir for sustenance, if she doesn't feed, we both go hungry. She's been 'snacking' on all the excess emotions running around this house since you, um, woke up."

"Yeah" Myrtle said, throwing an 'I'll get you later' look in Harry's direction.

"So where did you go?"

"Apparently Harry knows some very dodgy bars in Southeast London" she said, casting him a dark look.

"Hey, I'd never been there, Seamus told me about it, said it was always packed and always looked like a fight was about to break out" he explained, "he said I should wash my hands and watch my back on the way out."

"So Harry takes us to this dive of a bar and starts a fight!"

Myrtle looked at Harry's face and noticed the cuts and bruises for the first time, "ooh, we need some healing magic here."

"Later" Harry assured her, "Hermione and Noir fed on all the raw emotion in the place and we rode home, and that _is_ the rest of the story."

"Let's get you cleaned up Mr. Potter" Myrtle suggested, "then maybe some supper. Smells like Meacham has a shepherd's pie in the oven."

"Um, Harry, I don't eat and I don't exactly sleep at night, could I just stay in the library while you're, um, healing?" Hermione asked.

"Do you sleep during the day?" he asked.

"After a fashion, we just go inert for a few hours, but then Noir usually wakes up hungry" she looked thoughtful for a moment, "we don't need to feed everyday, but at least twice a week, we're going to need another food source – you can't be starting barroom brawls twice a week for the next few decades."

Harry chuckled, "no, we'll have to think of something else. Hermione, you don't even have to ask – my home is your home, I hope you'll always feel that way."

"Mrs. Potter, may I?"

She smiled and nodded as Hermione pulled Harry into one of her patented bone-crushing hugs. He stoically accepted the embrace even though it reminded him of every scrape and bruise on his battered body.

Hermione looked away as her doppelganger took Harry by the hand and led him up the stairs.

Once behind closed doors they fell into a tight embrace which unfortunately caused Harry to hiss in pain. Myrtle jumped back, "I'm so sorry, I didn't think. . ."

"S' okay" he winced "you couldn't have known."

"Strip" she ordered.

He groaned, his movements stiff as he peeled out of his T shirt and sat on the bed.

"Oh Harry" she said, looking at his bruises and abrasions. Rowena Ravenclaw's healing jewel was on his nightstand. She picked it up and said "we'd best start from the top."

Holding the jewel in the palm of her left hand Myrtle gently probed Harry's scalp, "you have a knot on the back of your head."

"Pool cue" he explained.

"And a nasty bruise on your left temple."

"Someone had a pretty good right-cross."

She didn't say a word as she placed the jewel on his left cheek, where her hand print practically glowed.

"I suppose I deserved that" he said, chagrined.

She smiled weakly and applied the stone directly to his scrapes and bumps, lightly kissing his skin and scalp as she healed them.

She thought, "why not?" and applied the stone to his lighting bolt shaped scar, which faded noticeably but a persistent hint of it stubbornly remained, no longer etched but rather traced on his forehead. Oh well, it had been a part of him for so long, he might actually miss it.

She healed his split lip, and then kissed him tenderly. He reached to embrace her but winced as the rest of his injuries manifested themselves.

"Hold still" she smirked, "let your healer work here."

She cataloged his bruises, nasty welts on his back and forearms, huge purpling bruises on the sides of his torso from three cracked ribs.

"Doesn't it hurt to breathe?"

"A bit" he admitted, "I've had worse scrapes on the quidditch pitch."

She caressed his exposed skin with her warm fingertips and followed each caress with the healing stone.

"You've had a right pasting Harry, the best we can do is just let you kip with Rowena's stone."

"Riddle healed a lot faster" he groused.

"Riddle had the stone under his skin."

She thought for a moment and then smiled evilly "do you want this stone inside you?"

He looked confused for a moment, "it's too big to swallow. . ." then looked horrified at his wife, who was barely containing her guffaws.

"That is just _wrong_!" he grumbled.

She found a small pouch and placed the stone inside, then attached a long cord so that Harry could wear it around his neck.

"Lie down," she ordered and then joined him on the bed, being very careful not to bump him. She placed her hand on the pouch and said "thank you Harry."

He was nearly exhausted as he asked "what for?"

"For not dissolving our bond, for letting me keep the ring, for not hating me."

"I was pretty sure I knew who you were when I gave you the ring, Love, and you are the girl I'm mate bonded to."

"And if she finds a way to take her body back?"

"Then it'll still be you I'm bonded to. . ." he sighed, then drifted off to a healing sleep.

Downstairs the brightest witch of her age was devouring all the books she could find on soul magic.


	16. Chapter 16: Going's on at St Mungo's

Chapter 16: Goings on at St. Mungo's

Author's note: Myrtle is possessing Hermione's body; Hermione is somehow in control of an essensential (commonly known as a dementor). The Hermione/Myrtle combination will simply be known as Myrtle from now on, with an occasional reference to her being in Hermione's form. The Noir/Hermione symbiot will be known simply as Hermione, or the symbiot. I hope this cuts down on the confusion.

ooo000ooo

Harry woke early the next morning to familiar warmth surrounding his most attentive member fully. He opened his eyes to see his wife's dark caramel eyes, her beautiful face wreathed in thick, soft, kinky brown hair. She was on her hands and knees, holding herself aloft so that the only parts of them that were touching were their most intimate parts.

"Morning Luv" he smiled.

"Do you have any idea how much I love the fact that you're a morning man Mr. Potter?"

He smirked, "I'm getting an idea, Mrs. Potter, c'mere!"

Harry pulled her on top of him, her weight negligible, allowing them to make skin to skin contact with their whole bodies, well; at least the facing halves of their whole bodies, their roaming hands strove to touch the rest of each other's exposed skin.

"I want us to be doing this for the better part of the next century, Luv" Harry breathed into her ear.

"Perfect" she purred in response.

Eventually hydrostatic pressure made them separate; she always mewed in disappointment when he withdrew his member from her.

"You always do that" he chuckled.

"Well, I always hate it when you leave."

"I'm still here m'dear."

When they'd showered and dressed for the day they met Hermione in the small dining room.

"Please, go ahead and eat." She insisted.

"Do you want anything; a cuppa?" Harry offered.

"Oh yes, tea would be nice" she enthused. Almost immediately Meacham was at her left elbow pouring Earl Grey, placing milk and sugar within her easy reach.

"Thank you, um . . ."

"Meacham Miss and you're quite welcome."

"Wherever did you find him Harry" she asked, "he's an absolute jewel!"

"You've met him before Mione, he used to be Kreature."

She looked horrified for a moment, then dumbstruck, then vastly curious.

"You owe me a Sickle" he said to his spouse.

"You were right, first she looked shocked and angry; then curiosity got the best of her. I don't seem to have a Sickle on me" she said, patting the pockets of her smart business suit.

"I'll just have to take it out on your pretty little hide m' dear."

"That's _my_ hide Harry, please don't abuse it." Hermione rejoined.

The Potters weren't sure if Hermione was joking or not so Harry quickly changed the subject.

"I have to see Judge Vance this morning, then I need to spend a little time at St. Mungo's with Ginny. And sometime this week we have to see Minister Scrimgeour." He sighed, "all in all a full week and it's only Monday!"

Hermione suggested it might be better to see Ginny first. She couldn't put her finger on it, but when she and Noir had passed by the criminal ward there seemed to be something wrong about the place.

They finished breakfast and Hermione opted to stay behind, it might be difficult to explain two Hermione's strolling down the Ministry's halls. Mrs. Potter would be going with Harry this trip.

On the way out Meacham handed Harry a small bag and explained, "four measures of floo powder, a two way mirror" (Meacham or Hermione and Noir would have the other), "and two small crystal vials for storing memories if needed."

They decided to floo to St. Mungo's first. Upon arriving in the lobby Harry joined the queue for the help desk, the same witch who always seemed to be there asked "may I help you?"

"I need to see the Kissed patients in the Long Term Care Ward please."

"The Kissed have a ward of their own now, sir. There were just too many to care for in LTC" she said, not unkindly.

"Where would that be?"

"On the same floor as the Criminal Ward, sir" seeing the look of horror on Harry's face she quickly added, "not in _with_ the criminals, sir, it's just a secure floor with lots of room."

Harry and Myrtle practically raced to the elevator.

"I've got a _very_ _bad_ feeling about this" Harry said as he punched the button for CW, 'Criminal Ward.'

The elevator opened up in front of a desk, behind which sat a portly looking orderly with a stitched name badge that read 'Krofcheck.' He didn't even look up at them as he said "check your wands."

"Not going to happen" Harry said shortly.

"Ere' now, jus' who d' you think you are; the bloody Man Who Triumphed?"

Harry leaned over the desk and said simply, "yes."

The fat orderly looked closely and gulped.

"And this is Mrs. the Bloody Man Who Triumphed," Harry continued "and as we are both fully trained aurors I expect we'll be keeping our wands."

"Oh, sure, sure, no offense meant!" the man groveled, "an' who do you wish t' see?"

"Ginevra Weasley and some of her charges."

"Roit through ere gov" the man's waddle reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley.

Harry didn't have to tell Myrtle to keep an eye on the fat orderly, there was just something not quite right about him.

Krofcheck rapped on the door twice, then three times, and then turned the key. As the door opened inward Harry placed a small steel ball in the lock socket of the door.

"I'll be at me desk sur, workin' on me reports" the orderly said importantly, "jus' knock three times, then twice an' I'll be back in a tic."

"Thanks" Harry said, then wandlessly knocked over a tray, which made a noisy clatter on the tile floor, he caught his bond-mate's eye who nodded in understanding and disillusioned herself.

Krofcheck had to open the door wide to allow for his girth and Myrtle followed him stealthily down the hallway, keeping to the shadows.

"Ironic" she thought to herself, "Hermione would be a natural at this."

The orderly waddled quickly to his desk and pulled out a small two-way mirror.

"Yeah, it's me" the orderly said into the mirror, he was starting to sweat, "I got two aurors here, with wands, askin' questions!"

The reply was tinny but Myrtle could swear she'd heard the voice before, could have been any one of thousands of voices she'd heard over the years.

"Firs' thing, do NOT panic. They's locked in the ward right?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Jus' nudge a couple of the dolls to hit the aurors while their backs is turned, they can't watch all of em' now can they?"

"Well no, but. . ."

"No buts Krofcheck, if anyone finds out about us the aurors'll be the last thing you'll ever have t' worry 'bout!"

Just then the elevator door opened and two men walked in, "I'm Smith, this is Jones. We're here for our morning appointment" the one calling himself Smith said importantly.

"Ah, yes, Messer's Smith and Jones, right here and early too, ah, there's just a bit of a hold-up at the moment gentlemen, if you could just come back in oh, 'alf and hour or so, I'll make sure the wait is worth the bother. . ."

The one calling himself Jones leaned over the desk and grabbed Krofcheck by the shirt front and snarled, "what gives, I told me mate here that we'd have quality time with the blonde this time in the 'Honeymoon Suite' and we've already paid, now what's this shite you're tryin' t' hand us?"

"Keep it down" the now profusely sweaty orderly pleaded "fact is we got us a surprise inspection, two aurors is in there right now and we have t' makes it all normal-lookin'!"

"Two aurors y' say?" 'Smith' mused "we kin take out two aurors, then make it look like the dolls done it, whot' do y' say Barn-, um, I mean, Jonesy?"

"Yeah, we take out the aurors an' we get six months, gratis!" 'Jones' said enthusiastically.

"You know Whitey'll go for it!" Smith rejoined.

"Hey" Krofcheck carped, "I can't make deals here, I just watch the desk."

"Yeah, an' sample the wares when no one else's around, we know" Jones accused.

The fat orderly shrugged, "I gots needs, same as any man!"

Myrtle had heard enough, and fired three spells in rapid succession.

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Expeliarmus!"_

Smith and Jones dropped where they stood, Krofcheck flew into the wall with such force he may as well have been stupefied.

She searched the three unconscious men, finding vials of wicked looking potions, knives, nasty looking brass knuckles. Each man also had a spare wand in an ankle holster. She made a tidy little bundle of the confiscated items then stupefied the men yet again for good measure.

She ran down the corridor to find her husband holding a sobbing Ginevra Weasley in his arms.

"Should I be jealous?" Myrtle smirked.

ooo000ooo Ten Minutes Earlier ooo000ooo

Harry watched the fat orderly waddle out the door and called for Ginny.

"Harry? Is it really you Harry?"

She came out from behind a privacy screen, Harry noticed she hadn't charmed her copper hair to grow back; it was still very short, like a buzz cut. She was holding what appeared to be a metal table leg, somewhat like a club.

"Tell me something only Harry would know!" she said, and menaced him with her improvised weapon.

"Um, the first time I used floo powder I was at the Burrow, and I mispronounced 'Diagon Alley,' wound up in Borgin and Burkes!"

She dropped the table leg with a clang and ran to his arms.

"What's going on here Ginny?" he asked.

"Oh Harry, this place, this place is _Hell_!" she cried.

"No one tries to help the Kissed, no healers ever come here, just a few orderlies and they abuse the patients." She stepped back, holding him at arms length so she could look him in the eye and said "Harry, they rape the kissed, they've got some kind of brothel set up here, men come day in and day out, all hours of the day and the girls who've been kissed, oh Harry, what these animals do to the girls."

She began to cry, "I tried to fight it, but someone had me _imperioused_ until just today, I finally broke it, and I was ready to kill the next man who came through that door!" She said with absolute conviction.

"Oh Harry, I could have killed you!" she sobbed and he pulled her into a tight embrace, "It's all right Ginny, it's alright, we're gonna' make this right, I promise."

"Should I be jealous?" an amused voice came from the open door.

"Her-Hermione?" Ginny asked "I thought you'd been killed!" and she pulled the bushy haired girl into a three way embrace with Harry.

"Not exactly, um, it's a long story; do you know what's going on here?"

Harry and Ginny nodded.

"Ginny here has been under an imperious curse since she got here, she was just able to shake it off this morning; someone's running a brothel right under the noses of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement here."

"We've got to call in the rest of the aurors here Harry," Myrtle suggested "I've already disabled the elevator, and I've got three prisoners just waiting to taste some veritaserum."

Harry thought for just a moment, "We need to contact Kingsley." He pulled his two-way mirror from his jacket pocket and called "Number Twelve!"

"Hermione here, what is it Harry?"

Ginny looked shocked, if Hermione was there, who is _this_?

"I need you to floo Auror HQ, we need a team in the Kissed ward at St. Mungo's right away, it has to be covert; no one can suspect what we know about this place!"

"Noir tried to tell me there were some dark magics involved there; I've learned to trust her on things like that."

"I need you to call right away, 'Mione."

"I'm already at the fireplace, tell me what's going on and I'll relay to, Oh, hello Kingsley!"

It took a few minutes to explain the situation to Shacklebolt, who had a team in his office before the conversation was over.

"We'll be there in five minutes" Kingsley said, and then signed off.

"Where are the girls?" Harry asked.

"Through these double doors, I couldn't go through them, the imperious prevented me."

They went in and found what looked like a hotel lobby leading to half a dozen rooms. An extravagant, gilded sign read 'Honeymoon Suite,' Harry and the girls entered.

There on a king-sized heart-shaped bed with red satin covers languished two girls, Lavender Brown and Lori Baxter, the Hufflepuff prefect that had stood beside her on the wall when they had been Kissed. They wore simple red transparent gowns and nothing else. Both girls were basically staring around the room, not reacting to anything.

"Lavender, Lori? Its Ginny dears, remember Ginny?"

Both girls stopped the aimless staring and focused on Ginny, Lori asked "Gin-nee?"

"Yes my love, its Ginny, come here now, come, come" both girls followed Ginevra out of the room where their gowns were transfigured into something that would protect their modesty, if they'd had any modesty to protect."

The trio gathered eight more girls and two young boys from the remaining rooms and went back to the ward.

A deep bass voice called from the open doorway, "I guess the gift-wrapped perps in the hallway are an early Christmas present Harry?"

"Courtesy of the Missus, Boss, she took em' on, not me!"

"Missus? Why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"

"You are, it hasn't happened yet, we're just, y'know, bonded."

"Well congratulations you two, now let's get to work, I see a queue forming up in the lobby downstairs, I think the holding cells at the ministry are going to be full for the next several days."

What followed was a classic sting operation. One auror, polyjuiced to become Krofcheck, would send the 'clients' in and as they entered the 'suites' they were arrested, veritaserum was administered and they were adjudicated on the spot. Those who were first timers just out for a 'good time' were given suspended sentences but their names were published in the 'Crimes against the Wizarding Community' column in the Prophet. Those that had been regulars were sentenced to Azkaban for as little as six months or as much as two years. 'Smith' and 'Jones' had been watching too many muggle cop shows; they wanted to do a deal. Taylor and Barnaby, their real names, were small time crooks with delusions of grandeur; they did know a few names of the powerful and influential but in the end their veritaserum confessions landed them the longest sentences twenty years with no possibility of parole.

Someone fairly high up in the hierarchy of the DMLE was obviously involved, but who? No one had a name, or even a description, just a contact name, "Whitey."

Krofcheck had been an Auror washout, couldn't hack the physical training, when he saw the Kissed setting up in the ward next to his he volunteered to "gate keep" both wards. His official record was clean and it seemed like a good use of existing man power. He had even received a rise for his 'initiative.' Under veritaserum he confessed to keeping the book on the 'Suites.'

"Why do you call the Kissed 'dolls' Krofcheck?" Shaklebolt asked.

"Well, they's empty headed playthings, ain't they?"

It was left for Ginny to suggest Krofcheck's fate. She didn't even hesitate; she contacted Lavender's and Lori's surviving relatives, grandparents on both sides of the families, and told them what had happened to their granddaughters.

Harry didn't even flinch when the sentence was carried out in the courtyard of the Ministry of Magic. The press was invited as was the age-appropriate public. The girls and boys who had been abused were present, in as much as their dementor kissed personalities would allow. Also in attendance were the families of the victims and the aurors who had shut down the brothel. The condemned was manacled to a large square frame that stretched his arms and legs so that his naked body resembled a large doughy 'X'. Gregor Krofcheck screamed as the lash laid twenty stripes on his back, but he shrieked like a terrified little girl when the small hooked blade removed his testicles without the benefit of anesthesia. Lori looked at Harry and asked, "Goodness?"

"No," he replied gently "not goodness Lori; _justice_."


	17. Chapter 17: The Law and Justice

Chapter 17: The Law and Justice

Author's note: Myrtle is possessing Hermione's body; Hermione is somehow in control of an essensential (commonly known as a dementor). The Hermione/Myrtle combination will simply be known as Myrtle from now on, with an occasional reference to her being in Hermione's form. The Noir/Hermione symbiot will be known simply as Hermione, or the symbiot. I hope this cuts down on the confusion.

ooo000ooo

Judge Vance saw Harry enter the Wizengamot and called a two hour recess.

"You didn't have to do that for me sir" Harry groused.

"Not at all Harry, truth be told, I need a break. We all do. What can I do for the Elfin Moses?" he smirked.

The young wizard groaned but took the mild abuse in good humor.

"I need a good lawyer sir; I've apparently inherited massive debt along with a mountain in Canada, and an island in the Caribbean and various and sundry cursed objects."

The judge's eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead.

"And my parent's home in Godric's Hollow has been demolished; the property turned into a magical tourist trap."

Judge Vance shook his head in disbelief.

"My image is being used by no less than six products without my permission, products I never use and wouldn't dream of endorsing."

"Let me guess" the judge asked, "the 'Peace of Mind' Morning After potion?"

"Right in one sir" Harry said, scowling, "in an unrelated area, I'd like to remove Narcissa Black Malfoy from Azkaban, apparently as her Head of Family I'm allowed to, what is the phrase, ward her?"

"You wish to become Mrs. Malfoy's warder?"

"Perhaps, I need to speak with her first."

"Anything else Harry?" the judge asked.

"Yes sir, I would like to try to convince the ministry that the Kissed of Azkaban have suffered enough, I'd like to help Ginny Weasley's efforts as much as I can."

"You don't need a solicitor Harry, you need a bulldog; someone with a vindictive streak interlaced with unflagging tenacity. In short, a real pain in the arse."

"Have someone in mind?" he asked, hopefully.

"Oh yes," the judge chuckled, "this is right up her alley – I'd send her an owl but as Chief Justice that would tie me in to your representation and I'd have to recuse myself from any KoA cases that crossed my docket.

"I appreciate the recommendation sir, I'll owl her myself and hope for the best."

"Oh, she's the best alright; she's my ex-wife and Emiline's mother."

"May I have her address?"

"Zubediah Vance, pronounced 'Zoo – bay – duh,' if you say 'Zoo – buh – dye – uh' she'll kick you out of her office.

"Interesting name, sir."

"Turkish," he said proudly, "brilliant mind, but Merlin, what a temper! And she doesn't suffer fools gladly" he chuckled.

"You seem to be on good terms with her, I mean, ex-wife and all. . ."

"We're the best of friends, since we're not married anymore, oh lad," he looked wistful, "the fights we had!"

"You _miss_ the fighting?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Not at all, son, it was the making up again, and again, and again . . . oh yes!"

Feeling uncomfortable with the TMI he asked "Where is her office, sir?"

"She has a small office just over Flourish and Blotts, just send the owl to Z. Vance, Diagon Alley."

"Thank you sir, I will. Care to join us for a spot of lunch?"

"Someplace in mind Harry?"

"D' you like Chinese?"

They met Mrs. Potter in the Wok-n-Roll.

"Congratulations you two, best of friends already? Good, excellent in fact, best way to start out. Will you be hand fasting before the wedding or just wait until the first child is on the way?"

Experience had taught Harry the best way to learn about his wizarding heritage was to let people know when he didn't know what they were talking about.

"Sorry sir, I don't understand the reference."

Myrtle's encyclopedic knowledge of wizarding customs came to the fore, "in many wizard families a couple will be hand fasted, this constitutes a legal and binding marriage, the wedding often waits until the couple can demonstrate their fertility, once the woman becomes pregnant then the wedding takes place."

"Surely you've noticed the lack of large families in wizard families," Judge Vance interjected, "many couples come up unable to procreate, when this happens one or both partners may dissolve their hand-fasting without having to resort to divorce."

"But the Weasleys have seven children!" Harry observed.

"Unusual to say the least, it's why women of the Prewitt line are so revered in our world, very passionate, very fertile" the old barrister mused, "And the last of the Prewitt line is caring for the Kissed in St. Mungo's at this moment."

"Yes sir, about that" Harry started nervously, "is there anything we can do about their situation?"

"It just so happens I have some ideas along those lines Harry, you are willing to ward Narcissa Black Malfoy?"

"I would like to speak with her first, but yes, I would be willing to do that."

"You will have to pay her fee, fines really for criminal penalties, court costs, food and lodging."

Harry looked horrified, "I have to pay for her lodging, is that what you call a cell in that stinking prison; _lodging_?"

"I know its ironic Harry, but the system has been in place for a thousand years, and you know the wizarding world is slow to change."

"Can anyone be warded?" Harry asked.

"No, those guilty of capitol crimes can't be – although having a dark mark is prima facia evidence of murder." He looked thoughtful for a moment and continued "if charges aren't brought against the accused they can be warded."

"I think my townhouse in Grimauld Place is going to get crowded. . ."

The judge smiled a predatory smile, "Would it interest you to know that prior to their marriage, there was no Malfoy manor, that it was in fact, the Black estate?"

Harry's eyebrows climbed to his forehead, "do say?"

"Yes, and if, as the Scion of the Black Family, you were to annul the marriage, all properties would revert to your control. Beautiful estate, a thousand hectares of pasture, a lake, a manor house that would put most resorts to shame. Lots of rooms. . ."

"I get it sir, I get it. May we see the soon to be ex Mrs. Malfoy this afternoon?"

"You'll need your solicitor and your properties manager in attendance; can you be in my chambers after four o'clock?"

"We'll be there sir."

The group assembled in Judges Chambers was eclectic to say the least, two guards, one newly assigned from St. Mungo's and one from Azkaban. Two prisoners, the close cropped Ginevra Weasley and the equally shorn Narcissa Black-Malfoy (apparently there still is a problem with body lice in Azkaban). Harry and Myrtle (currently residing in Hermione's body) were standing in a tight group with Sharpclaw and a strikingly exotic woman of indeterminate age whom Judge Vance introduced as "Zed, solicitor of record for the families Potter and Black."

"Mrs. Malfoy," the judge started, "do you have any idea why you are in chambers this afternoon?"

"No doubt to deprive me of yet another property or privilege milord, although I don't know what else I may have of significance save my life, which is of very little value anymore."

She wasn't acting proud, she wasn't being sarcastic; she was simply stating the truth as she saw it.

"Milord" Harry interjected, "may I have a few moments in private with Mrs. Malfoy?"

The DMLE guards, Judge Vance and Zed said "no" simultaneously.

"But I can offer you discretion within these chambers," the Chief Justice offered, "simply sit at the end of the conference table and I will erect a privacy ward. That way you may speak in confidence."

Harry moved to the end of the table and pulled out a chair for her.

Mrs. Malfoy nodded her thanks as she sat gracefully.

Judge Vance cast the spell then turned his back to speak with Zubediah in a sotto voice, "can you see them m' dear?"

"Of course, you old goat" she grinned affectionately, "I don't suppose you told them that I can read lips?"

"Must have slipped my mind. . ."

Harry began, "Mrs. Malfoy, I have a proposition for you."

"Mr. Potter," she interrupted, "what can you possibly have to offer that I would accept?"

"I can get you out of Azkaban."

At that point he had her undivided attention.

"I have to know Mrs. Malfoy, did you support Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I was required to Mr. Potter. My husband" she spat the word, "followed the Dark Lord, therefore _I_ followed the Dark Lord. And for him my – my _son_ was marked as well." A single tear traced down her cheek at this.

"I am still learning what it is to be a wizard and now I find myself the Head of House for two Noble Houses, two Noble _Ancient_ Houses; my wife tells me that I need the help of someone who knows what it means to be Noble and Ancient."

"Someone like me?" she asked, daring to hope.

"I would assume responsibility for you Ma'am, it would mean annulling your marriage-"

"My son would be declared bastard!"

"- my wife tells me he could still inherit from you, name, properties, begin to rebuild the good name of the Black family."

"Your lady wife knows our customs very well for a, um, muggleborn" she smiled tentatively.

"She is wise beyond her years Ma'am" he smiled in return.

"You would be willing to be my Warden?"

"If you would be willing to teach me the ways of wizard high society, yes."

"Let us speak to the Judge then" she said, rising with much more poise and confidence than before.

The first order of business was for Harry to place the Black family ring on his finger, he placed it on the middle finger of his right hand. Then before the witnesses in the judge's office he declared the marriage of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black to be annulled.

Narcissa had been holding both hands to her abdomen, eyes closed as in expectation.

"Am I free of him?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes" Judge Vance assured her.

She sat heavily in the chair behind her, "oh thank all the gods that ever were!" She looked up at her confused benefactors and explained "Lucius placed a disemboweling curse upon me so that if I ever sought a divorce my entrails would spill and burst into flame!"

Myrtle made the connection first, "but _you_ didn't seek a divorce, so you're safe!"

"Yes!"

Second order of business, reclamation of the Black Estates near the Scottish border in Campeltown, and plans to convert it to a long term care and recovery ward for the dementor kissed. Sharpclaw looked at the deeds, the annual maintenance fees and general upkeep for such a large property and pronounced it a worthwhile and viable endeavor.

Ginny would be moving to the estates to oversee the day to day needs of the Kissed while Harry, Zubediah and the judge tried to convince the Wizengamot to release the Kissed of Azkaban into their care.

There was a discrete knock on the door as a folded parchment appeared under the door.

"Ah, I was expecting this," he handed the parchment to Ginny, "it's a summons for you to appear in the courtyard as your brothers demand satisfaction from young mister Malfoy on your behalf."

Ginny's face, already pale, went snow white.

"May we go quickly milord?"

The group arrived in the courtyard just in time to see Charlie and Bill pulling the chains tight stretching Draco's thin naked body into a painful "X". A small crowd was already forming.

As Charlie checked the restraints on Draco's leg he whispered, "Did you know that the femoral artery is just inside your thigh? When I cut your balls off I'm going to accidentally slip. By the time they get you out of this rig you will have bled out."

Draco didn't say a word, he just looked straight ahead.

"My only regret" Charlie continued, "is that I don't get to do this for every time you raped my baby sister!"

The boy on the rack just looked at the powerfully built Weasley as though he was saddened by the sight of him.

Charlie struck in anger, back-handing him, loosening teeth.

Draco spat blood and whispered, "Remember to twist the knife, I'll bleed out faster."

Bill Weasley held the lash, cracking the tip with practiced ease.

"Milord" Ginny asked, "May I speak with Draco?"

The judge nodded.

Bill looked curious and Charlie nodded in grim satisfaction as Ginny approached her attacker.

"Charlie," she whispered, passing close to her brothers on her way to Malfoy "may I have your wand for just a moment please?"

Expecting one of her famous "bat bogey" hexes Charlie surreptitiously slid his wand into her hand where she secreted it in her sleeve.

She walked up to the bound Malfoy and said "hello Draco."

"Hello Gin, come to watch?"

"You've looked better" she rejoined.

"You look great, even with the buzz cut."

She walked around behind him and placed her hands on his arms and shouted _"bindus carpus e tarsus!"_

The spell manacled her to his back wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, luckily they were about the same height or it would have been excruciating for her.

Charlie screamed "Ginny, what are you doing? Get away from him!"

She looked back over her shoulder to her stunned audience, "go ahead Bill, twenty lashes, right? Only you'll have to go through me to do it!"


	18. Chapter 18: Ginny, Draco and Cissy

Chapter 18: Ginny, Draco and Cissy

Author's note: Myrtle is possessing Hermione's body; Hermione is somehow in control of an essensential (commonly known as a dementor). The Hermione/Myrtle combination will simply be known as Myrtle from now on, with an occasional reference to her being in Hermione's form. The Noir/Hermione symbiot will be known simply as Hermione, or the symbiot. I hope this cuts down on the confusion.

ooo000ooo

Bill dropped the lash and walked to his baby sister, tied ankle and wrist to a naked man.

"Ginny, this _thing_ raped you everyday for two months," he said, trying to remain calm.

"While you were raping Fleur in the room across the hall?"

"That wasn't rape, we are a bonded couple who love each other. . ." Bill screamed, the look on his face sheer horror. "No!"

"When have you ever heard me use the word 'rape' to describe what Draco did to me, or rather _for_ me?"

"No!" Charlie said, refusing to believe it "he's got you under some kind of spell, or potion!"

"Must be the same potion you used when you were in school then, I've heard from people who know that you slept your way through half of Hufflepuff and most of Ravenclaw while you were at school."

"That's different," he insisted.

"Why?" she asked, "because you're a bloke?"

She fixed her gaze on Bill, "and you, putting your initials on the inside door frames of all those broom cupboards - along with tick marks - keeping score?"

Bill's face went pale, "how do you know about. . ."

"Oh _puleeze_, I topped your score by the end of my fourth year!"

Both brothers looked horrified.

"I know why you did Hufflepuffs Charlie. All loyal to the core; they don't shag and tell!"

Charlie advanced on the bound couple with the cruel-looking hooked knife.

"Stop Charlie," she screamed. "He's innocent! He did not rape me because you cannot rape someone _who is willing!"_

"No!" Charlie screamed as he brought his arm around in a wide arc - determined to disembowel Malfoy.

No less than six stunners shot out. One struck him dead center dropping the redheaded berserker like a sack of flour.

Bill checked his brother's vitals, pulse, breathing okay. Then he looked at his baby sister, the darling of the Weasley family. "How? Why?"

As Draco and Ginny were lowered one of the aurors disenchanted their bindings. Ginny covered his naked body in her thin grey prison cloak and answered.

"Draco kept me alive this summer; if he hadn't petitioned Voldemort for exclusive rights to me I would have been raped to death. In the beginning I did what I could to please him because I was grateful for my life, but after several weeks of being together we grew on each other." She looked at the assembled crowd. "He saved all of you too. Draco delivered the key bit of intelligence that let the side of light win the war, and this is how you repay him?" She spat in disgust.

"Sharptooth?" Harry asked

"Yes Harry?"

"I need to pay the fines on Draco, Ginny _and_ Narcissa, can I afford it?"

The goblin grumbled, "Barely Harry. You're going to need to start cashing in on your celebrity pretty soon though."

Draco grinned lopsidedly, "See Potter, it took a pureblood girl to save the day this time!"

"Actually, son, Lord Black fired the stunner that felled the Weasley. Everyone else was too slow, and no one else hit the mark."

"Mother?" he asked, finally recognizing the woman with the close cropped platinum hair.

"Yes Draco. Now kneel with me."

"Mother?" he repeated disbelieving, but did as he was told.

"I Narcissa Black" she indicated Draco repeat her words.

"I Draco Malfoy"

"Draco Black, there is no more Malfoy" his mother corrected.

"Draco Black," he dutifully repeated.

"Do offer fealty to my liege lord Harry Potter-Black"

"Mother!"

Narcissa looked coolly at her son and hissed, "Lord Harry has saved your ungrateful life twice. Moreover he has granted us freedom twice; first from that reptile Voldemort and then again from Azkaban, if you will not show due gratitude, fine, on your head be it! But you _will_ obey your mother in this!"

Draco numbly repeated, "Do offer fealty to my liege lord Harry Potter-Black"

Then mother and son both declared: "To support and defend his person, property and interests, and those of his house as long as I shall live. Upon my life and my magic I so swear, so mote it be!"

Myrtle whispered, "You are now a liege lord, it's a great responsibility. Their station in life will be whatever you declare it to be. Draco could be the stable boy and Narcissa the scullery maid if that's what you want."

Harry smirked. "Gratifying as that might be it would be an awful waste of potential." He looked down at the newly minted Blacks and said "Please rise you two, I'm not comfortable having people kneel to me"

"You'd better get used to it milord," Ginny said. Kneeling before him she pledged her life to his as well.

"Mrs. Malf, um Miss Black ah, Narcissa," Harry was a bit out of his element, "what _do_ I call you?"

She was enjoying his discomfort but took pity and said, "Miss Black will do in public. Narcissa in our own home or you may call me Cissa."

"Cissa?" he asked.

"I was born when Andromeda was three years old; she had trouble wrapping her tongue around 'Narcissa' so she would introduce me as her 'sister Cissa' only it came out cissa Cissa. You understand? Cissa meant sister as well as Narcissa.

"You may also address my by my position, I believe Lady Potter suggested 'Scullery Maid'?"

"Sorry Miss Black, a bad joke."

"Not to worry milady, I've been called worse."

"I believe your position will be advisor as well as social secretary. I need to be taken seriously in wizarding society and you are best suited to teach me the ins and outs."

"May we await you at Black Estate, milord?" Narcissa asked.

Harry nodded and she gathered her son into a tight embrace before apparating away.

Judge Vance clapped Harry on the shoulder, "that was a noble thing you did Harry, I know you don't fully understand yet, but you've just given three people their lives back, and a chance at a better future than they could have realized."

"I can't help myself sir, apparently I have this 'saving people' thing." He smiled at his wife and realized that Myrtle wouldn't understand the reference. His smile fell, only slightly, but she noticed.

"Harry?" she asked solicitously.

"Just something that my best friend told me a couple of years ago" he said and shrugged.

She nodded her understanding but felt a slight frission, like something had changed in their relationship.

"Ginny" Harry asked "would you like to go straight to the Black Estate or maybe get something from the Burrow first?"

"I-I'd like to get my clothes and such from home, but. . ."

"I can take us there. I've apparated to your parent's home several times now."

"Ginny, is it your parents, your family?" Myrtle asked.

Hanging her head low she nodded.

"If there's one thing the Weasley's have taught me, it's that nothing is more important than family, c'mon."

He gathered her into a hug and looked at his wife, "Sweetheart?"

"You go ahead love, I need to speak with our solicitor. I'll meet you at home in say, an hour?"

Harry side-along apparated Ginny to the Burrow appearing in the back yard just outside the kitchen window. Molly had been doing dishes by hand, the repetitive motion comforting. So much had happened over the past week she was nearly at the end of her rope. She looked up to see Harry and Ginny appear not ten feet in front of her, their arms around each other.

The Weasley matron squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and opened them carefully. The embracing couple was gone.

She shook her head and went back to work scrubbing a large round pan when she heard Ginny's trembling voice say, "Mum?"

She spun around still holding the dripping pan to see her baby girl standing in front of her, in prison garb with her head shorn, Harry at her side.

"Ginny?"

The young woman nodded and tears flowed freely as the two hugged each other fiercely. "Oh Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. Are you real? Are you really here?"

"Yes Mummy, I'm here, I don't have to go back to that awful place, Harry. . ."

"Harry?" Molly squealed, "Harry, got you out?"

"Kinda. Mum, Harry's my liege lord and my warden now."

Molly looked at Harry over Ginny's shoulder. "You paid her price?"

He nodded and she mouthed, "Thank you."

"I'm just going to run upstairs and change and get some more clothes Mum, could you put a kettle on?"

As she disappeared up the stairs Molly turned to Harry. "Will you be taking care of her from now on?"

"After a fashion," he said. "She wants to work with Ron and the rest of the Kissed; she's made some real progress in just a few days without a lot of support from, well, anyone. I think this will be good for her."

"_You'd_ be good for her Harry." Molly said earnestly.

"She has to make her own future ma'am, and so do I. We were never meant to be anything more than good friends. She's the sister I never had."

The tea kettle sang as Ginny came down the stair dressed in jeans, trainers and a t shirt. Her hair had been charmed to shoulder length in a pixie-ish cut that framed her face nicely.

"You look lovely dear" Molly said approvingly.

They sat for tea and Harry told Molly about the progress that Ginny had made so far with the Kissed, and of their efforts to remove the Kissed of Azkaban for treatment.

"I'm sorry to say this but we have to go," Harry apologized, putting his cup down "We'll floo you with our new address tomorrow."

Molly hugged them both just before they apparated to Grimmauld Place.

As soon as Harry's world stopped spinning from the floo network he saw an angry Hermione. He knew it was her because Myrtle normally didn't hover six inches off the ground.

"What did you do? What did you say to her?"

"What? Who? When?"

"Myrtle came in not an hour ago and ran straight to the master where she's been crying all this time – she's put out enough raw emotion to feed Noir and me for a _week!_"

Ginny looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, her mouth wide open, "Hermione?" she asked tentatively.

Hermione looked at Ginny and sighed, "let's go into the kitchen -- oh no, not you! You go up to the bedroom and fix whatever you did with Myrtle!"

"Myrtle?" Ginny gasped.

"Long story, I'll fill you in on the details in the kitchen." Looking at Harry she asked, "why are you still here? Go!"

Harry stumbled up the stair to the master bedroom only to find the door locked.

"Sweetheart?" he asked.

Meacham faded in and told him quietly, "You are the master of this house; no door will be locked against you unless you allow it. I don't know what you've done to mistress but I must say that I do not approve, _sir!_"

He was starting to get really annoyed by this point, he could understand if there had been a fight or if words had been exchanged or if he had been thoughtless or cruel, but this was too much; he didn't know what to think. "I don't _know_ what I did, okay?"

"Word of advice sir? Whatever happens you can not win. Accept this as fact and you will, in fact, prevail. The first words out of your mouth, sir, had better be an apology; otherwise you'll be sleeping in one of the smaller guest quarters."

Harry steeled himself and gripped the door handle as Meacham faded from sight. With a click the door opened to reveal Hermione's familiar form draped over the duvet, a pillow over her head. He quietly walked to the side of the bed and sat on the edge.

"Sweetheart, um, Mrs. Potter . . . love?"

She rolled away from him on the bed and huffed. "What?"

Harry bit back a short response having remembered Meacham's words just in time. He grasped her hand tenderly and said I'm so sorry, I've been an insensitive git and I have no excuse, please forgive me?"

Whatever she had been expecting it wasn't this. Flabbergasted she began to cry again. "Oh Harry, I didn't think you realized, and you came here to apologize and I must look a right mess and . . ."

He silenced her with a tender kiss, which she returned with interest. Salty wet kisses were not exactly new to Harry; those were the only kind Cho ever gave him, but somehow kissing the tears away from Hermione's face.

Hermione's face.

Now he understood.

Part of the reason, a large part of the reason that he had mate bonded with Myrtle was because she was in Hermione's body – they were soul bonded, but her body belonged to someone else.

Harry was overcome with immense feelings of guilt. Had Hermione given him permission to make love to her body? Was he guilty of rape? Would Dan Granger have him whipped and castrated?

Myrtle was using Hermione's body to kiss and stroke him and he didn't know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, sweet Merlin on a bike she was driving him crazy with desire right now. But it didn't seem right, now.

"Ah, um, sweetheart" he said, holding her at arms length. Gawd she looked like she was about to devour him, "do you still have the pendant?"

"Of course silly, why don't you see for yourself?" she vamped, unbuttoning the top three buttons of her blouse.

Yep, it was right there, nestled between the two most luscious breasts in the world . . . stop that!

He picked up the vial, grazing her bare flesh in the process, which made her moan.

Oh Hecate, a Moaning Myrtle sounded _so_ good right now.

"Here, take mine and unscrew the top."

She chuckled. "You can unscrew a light bulb, but not a pregnant girl!"

He froze, "Um, are you trying to tell me something, Sweetheart?"

She was taken aback by his seriousness. "Oh no, I'm on the potion, I'm safe for at least a month," she saw his look of vast relief and said, "Harry, what's really going on here?"

"Sharpclaw told me about these pendants, one drop of blood from each of us and we'll know what the other is thinking, as long as we're both wearing these pendants."

"And you want to know what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"I need you to know what I'm thinking. It'll make things, well not easier but clearer. Understand?"

She shook her head. "No, but I see that you do. What do I need to do?"

"We'll need a small sterile blade." As he was saying this, the vial cap came off revealing a tiny flat blade, perfect for the task at hand.

"All right, now to sterilize, hmmm." He went to the sideboard and poured brandy into a small flannel. Returning to the bed he took the two tiny blades out and wiped them against the alcohol.

"Two drops each" he said as he pricked his finger, one each for both vials.

She did the same. As the drops of blood commingled in the vials a soft glow, like that of a firefly, came from each vial. They capped the vials and settled in for a long silent conversation.

"_I wonder when it'll start working."_

"_Hard to say, may be a – waitaminit, did you say that out loud?"_

"_No"_

"_Well, that answers that question"_

"_What did you want me to know" she asked._

Harry took a deep breath and let it out, let his thoughts flow; it was the deepest form of communication.

His absolute destitution as he held her inert body.

His indescribable joy as she stirred.

The first niggling suspicions that she wasn't who she made herself out to be.

The realization that he truly loved Myrtle.

The realization that he truly loved Hermione.

He would die for them, but could he live with them?

The self-disgust that he was using Hermione's body without her consent.

"All right mister, just stop right there!" she said aloud, quite aloud.

"But its true, Hermione did not give us permission" he groused

"Not in so many words, but twice she's sent us off to bed with the full knowledge that we would _not_ be sleeping!"

"Yes, but . . ."

"_And see, look at this one!"_

Harry revisited his return home with Ginny and Hermione ordering him to make up with his wife.

Myrtle rolled off the bed and walked around, grabbing Harry's hand as she did. She all but dragged him down the stairs into the small dining room where Hermione sat with Ginny.

"Hermione, may I please have the full use of this body to do with as I see fit?"

"I'd prefer you not get any piercings or tattoos."

"May I use it to bear Harry's children?"

Hermione thought for a moment and said, with a small smile, "Of course."

"Mister Potter, I'm going upstairs. I expect you to be there in very short order or I might have to see just how accommodating Meacham can be!"

A slightly shell-shocked Harry looked at Hermione. "I don't know what to say."

"Thank you is a good start. Now go, she wants you and this way we both get you."

Ginny piped up. "There isn't anyone in this house that doesn't love you Harry. Now go show Myrtle how lucky she is."

As Harry climbed the stairs Ginny looked at her best friend. "Need some company tonight."

"Oh _Gawdess_ yes!"

As soon as the door to the master closed the two girls ran to Hermione's room.

Harry closed the door and set the silencing wards around the room, then looked at the empty bed.

"Sweetheart?" he called.

"I'll be out in half a tic, love. Why not slip into something more comfortable?" She removed her pendant and placed it on the bedside table. "A girl has to have _some_ secrets!"

He thought about that and chuckled. He completely disrobed; cast a cleansing and freshening charm. He then put on a silk kimono, tied loosely at the waist, and propped himself up in the bed, his back against the headboard.

The door to the master bath opened and a goddess stepped out.

Mrs. Potter strode out of the room in a brilliant red bra and knickers set with matching thigh-high stockings and six inch blood red stiletto heels. Her hair was charmed so that it flowed over her shoulders and trailed behind like a chestnut colored mane.

She fixed him to the headboard with a look that was pure wanton lust. Harry couldn't help but react as the majority of his blood flowed south.

She spoke in a voice that was an octave lower than normal "You like, Mrs. Potter's _mister?_"

He wanted to answer with a suave, debonair, "but of course."

What came out sounded something like "Urk?"

She came at him on all fours from the far side of the bed, looking like a predatory cat. No professional dancer ever exuded such raw sexuality. She crawled on top of him, straddling his torso, and then leaned down to capture his mouth in hers. Her kiss was warm, wet, inviting and full of promise. She shuddered, evidence of a small orgasm as she pulled away from his mouth, sucking his bottom lip until their faces separated with a slight 'pop'.

He could feel the wet heat from her soaked knickers on his abdomen and he caressed her naked bum.

Waitaminit; naked bum? _Thong!_

The realization that she was in the barest excuse for lingerie almost had him spurting on the spot. Merlin, Morgana and Maeve she was hot!

She rose to her knees to untie the kimono and free his member from its durance vile, and then crouched down so that his manhood was nestled in her bum crack.

She leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly, chuckling to herself as she felt his unflagging member pulsing against her backside.

"Eveready Bunny indeed!" she smirked.

She slid down, trailing kisses as she went, sucking each of his nipples hungrily as she palmed his manhood. When her breasts were level with his erection she unsnapped the front hook and pressed her soft mounds around his most sensitive member.

"I've wanted to do this for you since I saw, um, someone bring off her boyfriend this way in the prefect's bathroom twenty years ago." She had taken off her pendant so Harry wouldn't know that it was Lily Evans tit-shagging her boyfriend at that time. She could see the attraction; to be able to control the amount of pressure and friction. When she watched the couple two decades earlier she thought, "a simple lubrication charm would make it even more enjoyable for both of them."

Indeed, her experimental results supported her hypothesis.

Myrtle was in heaven, she was exciting her man in ways that no one of her age would be able to. Her meticulous observations over the years had truly made her an expert in all things sensual. Harry knew that she was doing everything for his pleasure, and he wished there was something he could do for hers when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

He froze and looked back to see himself, grinning, holding a tiny golden disk and hourglass. "Time turner?" he mouthed silently to himself, his future self smiled and nodded. 'I wonder where and when I got a time turner' he mused to himself, then was brought back to the delightful task at hand as the other Harry motioned for him to pay attention to the naked, sweating goddess under him. Present moment Harry smiled as future Harry maneuvered himself between Myrtle's knees. He gently nudged his lover's legs apart so that he could pull her gusset to one side and begin tonguing her very sensitive center.

Somewhere through her euphoric haze Myrtle realized that Harry should not be able to do what he was doing for her unless he had intentionally splinched himself.

"Harry," she asked hoarsely, "what; who?"

"It's okay love, it's only us here. Me and you and me and a time-turner."

She moaned in anticipation and asked "how long?"

Without looking up from his ministrations the Harry between her legs raised two fingers.

The Harry stroking her tits interpreted "two hours."

Myrtle barely heard him as the engorged tongue tipped her over the edge and she screamed "ohhhhh, aaaaaahhhhhh! _Fuck_ me Harry, fuck me _everywhere!_"

The two Harrys embraced her where they could, her legs her arms, tit-shagging!Harry scooted down so that he could give her a tender kiss, but Myrtle wasn't going for tenderness as she crushed her lips against his and tried to find his tonsils with her tongue.

Cunnilingus!Harry gave one more wiggle of his tongue and said, loudly, in parseltongue _Come for me baby, COME FOR ME!_ . The near overwhelming stimulation made her spike violently once more.

"Careful there Harry," Harry said, "She almost bit my tongue just now!"

"S'okay Harry," he replied to himself, "I knew you'd pull away just in time!"

Both Harrys laughed at the non-paradox; the one on top asked "now what?"

"Now you get on the bottom while Mrs. Potter gets on top."

"Sounds good, where will you be?"

Harry smirked "I'll be the top of this Myrtle sandwich!"

Present Harry's eyes grew wide, "and she's okay with this?"

"Are you kidding? She's wanted to do a threesome since she saw the DeLaney boys in action in the early 70's; _Viva le Sexual Revolution!_"

"DeLaney boys?"

"Yep, Hufflepuffs, did everything together; and I mean _everything_!"

"Messer's Potter?" she growled at her doppelganger husband(s).

"Yes Madame Potter?" they answered in union.

"Less talk, more _fuck_, we have less than two hours before one of you goes away!"

Present Harry rolled onto his back as Myrtle slid onto him, positioning herself at the tip of his erection.

"Damn" she said "bleedin' thong's in the way!"

Future Harry deftly snapped the juncture where the three silken cords came together and neatly slipped the barely-there knickers out of the way. A simple _repairo_ and they were good as new.

She slid down engulfing his whole length in one smooth stroke, eliciting a groan from her 'bottom' husband. Looking over her shoulder at her future spouse she asked, "well?"

Myrtle was beyond speech, she felt complete in a way that she never would have in her original lifetime. She urged her husband(s) to go a little faster, they happily complied. When they had reached what Myrtle knew was the perfect rhythm she abandoned herself to pure, unadulterated, wonderfully decadent sensuality. She didn't notice when future Harry deftly draped the pendant over her head, but he knew the vials would allow the three lovers to truly become synchronized, and achieve that rarest of phenomena, the mutual orgasm.

Indeed the level of connection, the communication, the bond was such that Harry, Myrtle, and Harry couldn't _not_ find completion in a powerful mutual climax that had all three of them screaming their orgasms to the echoing halls of the once Grim Old Place.

Meanwhile, in Hermione's room the bushy haired symbiot cuddled in sweat sheened bliss with her red haired lover.

"Oh my" Hermione smirked.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"If those two, no, make that three!"

"Three?" Ginny asked, even more incredulously.

"I'll explain later" Hermione promised, "If they keep this up they're going to have another essensential on their hands!"

"I don't understand."

"You know how I am really just, um, 'visiting' Noir, my host?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, she feeds off powerful emotions and making love, well, let's just say its _excellent_ food for Noir."

"And?"

"And right now my semi-corporeal host is so full she's about to bust!"

Ginny smirked and said, "I'll bet she's not the only one. . ."

Hermione, Noir and Ginny laughed as the sounds of passion reached a crescendo, echoing down the halls.

"Should we use a silencing charm do you think?" Ginny asked.

Hermione's answer was to gather the diminutive girl into a tender embrace and kiss her completely, "oh no, I think we'll just let them be as loud as they want."

Ginny slid her hand down to rub Hermione's wet sex and agreed.


	19. Chapter 19: A Visit to the Ministry

Chapter 19: Ministry of Magic

Author's note: Myrtle is possessing Hermione's body; Hermione is somehow in control of an essensential (commonly known as a dementor). The Hermione/Myrtle combination will simply be known as Myrtle from now on, with an occasional reference to her being in Hermione's form. The Noir/Hermione symbiot will be known simply as Hermione, or the symbiot. I hope this cuts down on the confusion.

ooo000ooo

The two couples converged on the small dining room early the next morning. Harry and Myrtle caught Hermione in a three way hug, thanking her profusely for the gift of her body. As Ginny walked in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes she was gathered into the group hug as well.

Meacham had a typical English breakfast laid out, toast and beans and bangers and eggs; coffee as well as tea. Everyone had worked up an appetite. Hermione enjoyed tea and basked in the powerful emotions of the other three.

"It's amazing to me that you can feed on our positive feelings without draining those feelings from us," Myrtle observed.

"That's another thing the ministry has to answer for," the symbiot responded, her face darkening. "Essensentials only deprive people of their happiness in self defense; otherwise we can feed and share positive feelings with those we feed from. We call it essensential communion." She smiled a quirky smile, "Oh all right, I call it that. Noir simply says communing."

Lately Harry had noticed that the Noir/Hermione symbiot was becoming more distinctly two souls in a single more or less corporeal body.

"I wonder," Harry mused, "if the reason dement, um essensentials look so frightening to us is because of what they do?"

Hermione looked pensive, "I'm going to let Noir take her form, don't be alarmed."

Hermione's form slowly gave way to that of a figure in a dark, silky cloak. But instead of a shrouded skeletal form, Noir had taken on a fully fleshed-out young woman with a face that seemed to change to resemble Hermione's then Myrtle's then Harry's before settling into a pleasant combination of features.

"Is this your true form?" Harry asked.

The shrouded figure shook her head "no."

"Is this _closer_ to your true form?" Ginny asked.

Noir nodded.

"You're beautiful" Myrtle sighed.

Noir bowed, and then morphed back into Hermione's outward appearance.

There were tears in Hermione's eyes as she said "it's like magic, not really white or black. Its how the magic is being used that makes it good or evil, light or dark."

"I'm supposed to see Minister Scrimgeour today. I think I'd like a tour of the Department of Mysteries."

Myrtle looked pensive, "I think you should take Hermione and Noir today dear." When he began to protest she added, "she can sense when something is wrong – b'sides, I'll have the pendant so we'll be in touch."

"I agree Harry, and Myrtle can take Ginny to our new home, begin to set it up as a proper rehabilitation facility."

Harry scratched his head and wondered when he had lost control of the situation. Oh well; at least he was surrounding himself with competence, unlike the ministry.

The Potters arrived in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic stepping out of the fireplace and into an explosion of bright lights.

Two dozen photographers learned that morning what happens to a camera when it's hit with a powerful _protego_ spell. Glass lenses explode, magical film melts and the camera becomes too hot to handle.

A deep, gruff voice ordered the photographers and reporters to "give over!"

Alastor Moody stood red faced with fury, he pointed at three random reporters and one photographer, "you, you, you, and you Gonzo!"

"See here Mad-eye," one of the selected reporters, Joe Lucas, objected, "This is still a free country, you can't muzzle the press!"

"Maybe, but I can stop you acting like a pack of dogs fighting over scraps! One of these days you're gonna get someone killed! And I _can_ find out who tipped you off, now, you four; we're gonna have a little chat!"

Hermione spoke up "do you realize how lucky you all are?" At the confused expressions on the reporter's faces she threw her hands up in frustration. "Don't you get it? You've all ambushed the wizard who killed Voldemort! You should be thanking whatever deities you believe in for your lives! If Harry Potter can kill the most powerful dark lord in a century what chance do you think you'll have if he lets his magic go?"

Harry stepped forward. "If you want to talk to me we can schedule a press conference. Just contact my secretary, Miss Black, and it will be arranged. For now, though we have an appointment, excuse us."

A lone figure chuckled from behind a door, "very good Lord Potter, exceptionally smooth."

Harry walked up to the appointments desk. "The Potters to see the Minister, we have an appointment."

"First floor landing Mr. Potter, the Hexagonal Office is behind the green door. Please go right on in."

Harry led Hermione up the stairs and through the door, beyond which was a large waiting room staffed by very efficient looking witches and wizards.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry turned to see Percy, still the minister's personal assistant beckoning them. "This way please, sir."

"How have you been Percy?" Harry asked, not unkindly.

"I've, I've been better, sir."

"Percy, please. It's still just Harry, I'm not a sir."

"Oh but you are sir!" the always proper Weasley insisted. "Anyone who has full access to the Minister must be addressed as sir or ma'am" he explained, nodding to Hermione. As they entered the inner office he announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Potter Minister."

"Thank you Weasley, you may go."

Rufus Scrimgeour looked like he'd taken a youth draught, he was thinner and leaner and with his hair cut shorter and his sideburns trimmed back he looked 20 years younger. "Thank you for coming Harry, Hermione, won't you sit down?"

They sat around a table in comfortable chairs, the Minister himself poured tea for his guests. He sat ramrod straight in his chair and began "Harry, do you know how old I was when I first saw combat?"

Harry shook his head.

"Nearly thirty" he looked between Harry and Hermione and continued, "you fought Voldemort when you were eleven; gods Harry, _eleven_!" The leonid man shook his head in disbelief. "And you fought him again and again year after year until the last day of last month when you finally took him down for good and all. More than that, you've been a field commander for all intents and purposes since you were fifteen!

"Add to that the fact that you have completed auror basic and are to become the youngest ever recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, and do you know what you have?"

Harry shook his head no.

"I know you don't like to hear this, but you have political capital, _power!_ You have the power to influence, to lead. If you want to you can reshape the future of the wizarding world!"

Harry sighed, then squared his shoulders and said, "I know, and I want to start exercising that power.

"Minister, I didn't ask for this, but if I can use it to benefit the families of those who fought and died, who gave their all for our freedom then I must do this thing."

"Where do you want to start, Harry?" the minister asked.

"I need a panel to review the antiquated laws that govern our world. More than that, I need to know that their recommendations will be acted upon.

"I need the Kissed, _all_ the Kissed, even the former death-eaters, to be treated and rehabilitated so that they can rejoin magical society, or muggle society. Whichever will work best for them.

"I need to know that there isn't another dark lord wanabe waiting in the wings to take over where Voldemort left off."

Scrimgeour smiled at the last one, "I can help with all of these, especially the last one, Commander."

"Commander?" Harry asked.

"Commander," the minister repeated, "let me explain.

"In times past, whenever there was a threat to our way of life the Ministry of Magic would re-activate it's liaison within the muggle Ministry of Defense – the purpose being to train wizards for combat. The last time this happened was in 1939, I had already been an auror for ten years.

"We were about to re-activate the liaison to counter the threat of Voldemort but you had already done that. You have inherited the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix, and created Dumbledore's Army, both paramilitary organizations, both with combat experience. Add to that the fact that all Order members are fully qualified aurors and you have a well trained, well armed militia. We're just taking what already exists and sanctioning it under the auspices of the Ministries of Magic and Defense.

"Her Majesty's government and the Ministry of Magic need someone to coordinate training and, should the need arise, lead that militia against the forces that would destroy all that we've fought to preserve."

Harry looked stunned. "Surely you have more experienced people to do this?"

The minister shook his head, "no one living has your level of experience Harry, and that's not just idle flattery. You've been there, as few of us ever have."

Scrimgeour produced two glossy pamphlets, showing aurors in full dress robes, then switching to combat gear. "We want to make the military arm of the aurors a permanent unit, and we're asking you to head the effort."

"I still don't believe that I'm qualified to do the job."

"Listen son," the older man said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not qualified to be the Minister of Magic either, but do you know how I keep from getting fired?"

Harry shook his head "no."

"I hire the best qualified people to do things for me, and call them my cabinet. My job is to be the public face, for better or worse. When magical Britain is on the upswing, as it is now, I'm doing a wonderful job. When things go south, as I assure you they will sooner or later, there will be calls for my head on a plate.

"I propose to pull some of the older, more experienced aurors out of retirement to help you form the organization; you'll be familiar with at least one of them, after that it'll be the next generation's turn to run things. Your job will be to find the most qualified people to do your job for you; you will call them your staff."

"This army or militia," Harry looked puzzled, "what _will_ we call it?"

"Officially you'll be attached to the 3rd Regiment, Royal Highlanders. But Her Royal Highness will be calling on the Phoenix Watch to respond to magical threats to the Realm."

"The Phoenix Watch" Harry mused, Dumbledore would be pleased.

"All members will attend basic Marine training at the Commando Training Centre Royal Marines (CTCRM) at Lympstone, Devon. Members of The Phoenix Watch will employ time-turners to condense four training days into one, allowing you to be combat ready in two months rather than eight. You, as commander of the Phoenix Watch will take your command staff on to the Officer Course which will earn you commissions as a Royal Marine Officers."

"When will you need an answer Minister?"

"Whenever," the Minister shrugged, "the Phoenix Watch will not happen without your endorsement, and I would not be sanguine about starting it without your participation Lord Potter."

Harry stood up to leave, "May I have an extra day on the time turner Minister, so that I can spend one day at a time in real time with my family and friends? I can apparate to the training grounds at the end of the day so that there will be no break in training.

"I am committed to do what I can to help the Kissed, and there are several laws that need to be reviewed and revised, and I have to be seen by the public endorsing those changes."

"I can honestly say son that I can give you all the time that you'll need" having said this, the Minister handed Harry a small box. When Harry opened it he saw a shiny new time turner on a thin gold chain. He stared at it in disbelief, so _that's_ how he'd managed it! Of course, only is future self would have known about it, but now he _was_ that future self. He shook his head as the disturbing nature of time skipping began to overwhelm him.

"It's a gift from Melvin Blanc, head unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, nice chap, always finds ways to help us keep up the good fight."

"I'd like to meet this Melvin and thank him for this" Harry said, holding up the pendant, "any chance of touring the Department of Mysteries today? It's not like I haven't been there before y'know."

Scrimgeour paged Percy, "Weasley! Scare up three passes to the DoM, won't you? There's a good man!"

Five minutes later the Minister led Harry and Hermione to the door at the end of the corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries, Harry was uncharacteristically quiet as he walked. When the trio had exited the Hexagonal Office Harry had been jostled by a man in a maroon auror's cloak, hood pulled up. The man mumbled an apology as he strode off. Harry was trying to figure out where he had heard that voice before when he noticed a neatly folded scrap of parchment in his hand. He surreptitiously read as they walked.

"Beware of Blanc!" it read.

Harry's eyes snapped to Hermione's "do you sense anything?" he whispered.

"Not from him," she whispered back, pointing at Scrimgeour, "but someone clearly doesn't want us there" she said, pointing ahead to the entrance to the DoM.

"Beg pardon" the Minister asked.

"Sorry sir," Harry explained, "just remembering the last time we were here."

"Ah yes, well, I think I can promise you there'll be no death eaters here today!"

"That's very reassuring sir."

As they entered the door Harry saw the now familiar circular room, but during the day all the doors were open. 'Probably only closed at night for security reasons' Harry mused.

"Melvin?" Scrimgeour called. Two men answered.

One voice, a husky baritone called out from one door, "you take this one Blanc, I'm on turned time and I don't remember having this conversation before!"

A completely different voice, a pleasant tenor, answered "Rufus? Stand by; I'll be out in a minute!"

Hermione asked, "How is it that he has two different voices?"

"Ah," the Minister explained, "Melvin is a natural mimic; I don't think anyone really knows what his real voice sounds like. He's sometimes referred to around here as 'the man of a thousand voices,' ah, here he is now."

A short man with dark hair wreathing an otherwise bald pate came out and welcomed the three visitors.

"Please introduce yourselves." Rufus said with a grin.

"I'm Harry Potter, glad to meet you sir." Harry began.

Melvin responded using Harry's own voice, "very glad to meet you Lord Potter."

"And I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione said.

"Don't you mean Hermione Potter?" the little man asked. "We do get the papers down here you know!"

Hermione didn't know what was more disturbing, the fact that the man knew all about Harry's betrothal or the fact that the man mimicked her voice so perfectly.

"I wanted to thank you personally for your gift of the time-turner Mr. Blanc; it's very generous of you."

"Not at all Lord Potter, happy to oblige. What else can we do for you here?"

"Well sir, if it's not too much trouble, we'd like to see how your research on essen – um, how your _essential_ research is coming on dementors."

"Unusual request," Melvin said, obviously puzzled. "Most wizards want to be as far away from them as possible y'know."

Hermione piped in, "Please Mr. Blanc, anything you can tell us might be helpful in treating the Kissed."

The little man looked saddened, "I'm afraid once a witch or wizard has been kissed there's no getting the soul back. We've ascertained that the soul is quite literally devoured in the same sense as human digestion, that is to say, the soul become integrated into the dementor's body, just as food becomes part of us.

"We have two test subjects in the Hall of Despair, but I don't recommend going in there."

"Can they feed on us?" Harry asked.

"No," Blanc answered. "Powerful wards hold them in check, a bit like permanent patroni if you will."

"May we see them?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Blanc shrugged, "if you like, this way." He led them to the only door that stood unopened.

"Even with the wards in place the dementors can still leech positive feelings from us - so let's not stay overlong, okay?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded.

As the four of them entered the room the temperature dropped ten degrees Celsius, "I know that feeling," Harry said looking at Hermione.

Two ragged looking essensentials floated in what appeared to be a spherical tank, both gravitated toward the newcomers. They looked like zoo animals begging food from visitors.

Hermione stepped toward the enclosure and both specimens appeared to bow low to her. An indistinct humming, like several harmonizing tones just outside of human hearing began to fill the room.

Hermione turned away from the enclosure, tears streaming down her face when she noticed two things. One the door to the Hall of Despair was closed and two, Blanc was nowhere to be seen.

"What are they saying Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Lady of Light." she said, "They're just saying 'Lady of Light' over and over."

"How can you know that?" Minister Scrimgeour asked, agog.

"They can see me for what I really am Minister," she answered.

Just then the floating globe shattered, raining shards of glass over the three mages, and two very hungry dementors floated toward the only source of food in the room.

ooo000ooo

Author's notes: The Phoenix Watch is modeled after the Black Watch, Royal Highland Regiment. Some of you know of my military background, don't worry, this will not be another tale like Family Issue where I take you all through basic training. Remember Melvin Blanc, no? How about Mel Blanc? AKA the man of a thousand voices, who provided the voices of nearly all the Warner Brother's animated characters from the 1930s to the 1980s. About the only voices he didn't provide were Granny and the "Mom" voices from some of the other cartoons, those were done by a lovely lady named June Foray. His appearance is pretty much as I've described him here. He may have been an unassuming character in real life but he breathed life into many of our favorite cartoon characters.


	20. Chapter 20: The Hall of Myseries

Chapter 20: The Hall of Miseries

_The floating globe shattered, raining shards of glass over the three mages, and two very hungry dementors floated toward the only source of food in the room._

Rufus Scrimgeour had his wand out, "We need your patronus Harry!" he shouted.

"No need Minister" Hermione said in a serene voice as the two shadowy figures floated down to bow at her feet.

To say that the Minister of Magic was shocked would be the understatement of the century.

"How are you doing that?" he rasped, still not believing his eyes.

"Please Minister," she whispered. "We're talking."

"Alright 'Mione?" Harry asked solicitously.

"Never better" she responded. "Why don't you test drive the time turner that Mr. Blanc gave you and see what this is all about?"

Harry nodded and placed the thin chain around his neck, "one turn enough do you suppose?"

She nodded, never taking her eyes off the essensentials at her feet.

"Okay," he said and gave the tiny hourglass a turn.

For the second time in his life he felt the odd backward moving sensation, but only for a moment. He found himself in a dark, cold room. He disillusioned himself and stood near the door. Turning the knob he peered out into the circular foyer and quickly ducked back as he heard footsteps approach.

"Who left this door ajar?" a gruff voice demanded, "don't you all know what's in here? Merlin's beard!"

The door swung inward and Harry just jumped back in time to avoid being plowed into by the Department of Mysteries employee. As the unctuous civil servant checked to see that the room was empty Harry quickly scuttled out, keeping close to the wall. He headed out of the DoM and toward the Hexagonal Office, where he assumed he and the Minister of Magic were having a heart to heart. As he rounded an empty corner he dropped the disillusionment spell and transfigured his plain black robe to the maroon of an auror. He had time; he looked at a desk calendar and realized he'd gone back _one whole day_. He looked closely at the time turner, a golden disk with a tiny hourglass set in place by tiny cantilevers. As he studied the device he saw the word 'interval' engraved on the edge. The movable outer ring had arrows that would line up for minutes, hours and days; ahead and back. The device was currently set on 'days' and 'back.'

'Great,' he thought, disgusted with himself; 'what am I supposed to do for a whole day?'

Then his eyes lit up as he remembered exactly what he had been doing the day before at about that time. He all but ran to the apparition point where he disapparated with a slight popping noise and appeared in the hall just outside his bedroom. Carefully opening the door he saw his past self from behind as he tit-shagged his beloved.

Harry regretfully left his past self after about two hours of intense and very satisfying sex. He smiled to himself as he re-dressed and apparated back to the ministry. Ducking into a washroom stall he began to flip the time turner in one hour increments until he arrived at his target time. He scribbled a note and headed out into the hallway where he saw his past self and Scrimgeour and Hermione turning the corner ahead. He put up the concealing hood and had no trouble bumping into himself as he'd already done it before; he mumbled an apology as he passed the note and walked briskly away.

Harry rounded the corner again and re-applied the near invisibility spell heading back to the Department of Mysteries. As he walked into the door that held the earlier Melvin Blanc he was just in time to hear "_imperio_!"

He watched as Auror Dawlish forced his will on Melvin Blanc. Dawlish, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's second in command.

"I suppose you think you're clever usin' my voice to talk to Krofcheck, eh Whitey?"

Of course, Blanc is French for white, hence "Whitey!"

"Now when the Minister and Mr. an' Mrs. Potter come in, you're gonna' want to show em' your clever little dementor traps, clear?"

The man struggled but Dawlish had years of experience with this particular unforgivable curse.

"Clear?" Dawlish repeated.

Blanc seemed to resign himself as he nodded.

"An no more usin' my voice!" the senior auror ordered.

Harry understood that he couldn't act until he had caught up with his original time line so he waited and followed the senior auror. When it looked like the man was about to leave the DoM Harry sent a silent tripping hex that left the bewildered auror sprawled face-down on the floor. Harry took the two-way signaling mirror from his own robes and slipped it into the hood of Dawlish's cloak, silently activating it as he did so.

The big man stood up quickly, looking all around to make sure no one saw him tripping over his own feet, then left.

Harry went back to the Hall of Misery's door and waited. Just as Blanc was leaving the room Harry slipped in and waited until he saw himself turn the tiny hourglass before revealing himself.

The two starving essensentials looked like they were pleading with, or perhaps praying to his bushy haired best friend.

"Hermione" he asked softly, "can we do anything for them?"

"I don't know, maybe," she said. "They're so young, so _hungry_. They've been feeding on happiness for so long that they crave it like a drug."

"Can we change that?" Harry asked. "I mean, _you_ did."

"But I don't know what I did, or how I did it!" she wailed. At the sound of her anguish the two essensentials rose up to their full, intimidating height.

"It's okay" she said in her oddly harmonic dementor's voice, soothing them. "No one here is upsetting me, we're just upset for you, we want to help and we don't know how!"

The harmonic came back "communion."

Hermione smiled and turned to Harry, "I need to try something, okay?"

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Communing" she replied and placed a hand on each of the essensentials' bowed heads.

"This is my essence" she sang in a beautifully unearthly alto soprano, "given freely, take it, eat, and we shall become as one."

The semi-corporeal wraiths responded - discordantly at first - before finding the proper harmonies. As they communed the air in the room began to warm, and the feeling normally associated with dementors faded to neutral.

The most astonishing change was that of the essensentials themselves. Their skeletal forms fleshed out, becoming androgynous human-like forms. Harry was reminded of aliens he'd seen on the telly, Roswell, he remembered.

Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic was at a total loss.

Hermione, looking very much the worse for wear turned on the Minister. "This is closer to what a dementor looks like, when it's not perverted by the unspeakables here! Did you know that Minister?"

He shook his head, unable to speak.

"These gentle beings have been starved and twisted until they have become a wizard's worst nightmare, and it's all because of what goes on in here. Where's the accountability? Government agencies have to be transparent or they form shadow governments! Ask yourself Minister; who's _really_ in charge here?"

"That would be us," two wizards and a witch turned to the familiar voice of Cornelius Fudge, Ex-minister of Magic, Dawlish and half a dozen aurors in his wake. Everyone was pointing a wand except Harry, Hermione and Rufus Scrimgeour.

As the three were relieved of their wands Fudge chuckled, "very clever my dear, you could write for the Quibbler, conspiracy theories and all that rubbish!"

"But it's not rubbish, is it _Mister_ Fudge?" she replied, and then cocked her head as if listening to another voice that only she could hear. "Oh, that explains it!"

Hermione looked at Fudge and shook her head "it was your wife." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement of fact.

He couldn't help but answer. "Persephone felt that I was spending too much time at my job, I was a junior assistant to an undersecretary at the time and when other wizards went home for the day I stayed to complete my assigned tasks. Do you know what happens to a government employee who gets the job done? They keep giving him jobs until he can't get them done anymore. Well I kept getting the jobs done. I gravitated to the Department of Mysteries where time was on my side. It got to the point where Persephone only saw me on weekends, then only on Sundays. She begged me to quit, or at least slow down, which would have amounted to the same thing. I came home one Sunday night to find her soulless shell lying on the kitchen floor. The healers said she had become demented so I called the thing that she had summoned a dementor. The name stuck."

"And you've been running the government from behind the scenes, from the Department of Mysteries for how long? Surely you must have realized that someone would out you sooner or later."

"Who would believe them? Lovegood perhaps?"

"I'm curious Fudge, just how many of Lawrence Lovegood's 'crazy conspiracy theories' were spot on?" Scrimgeour asked.

"Well, there are conspiracies and there are conspiracies. You see, when our young Mr. Potter was warning the world about the return of Voldemort we in the Department of Mysteries knew, how could we not? But we had an excellent opportunity here for the death eaters and the Order of the Phoenix to wipe each other out. One or the other would prevail of course, but the 'winner' would be decimated, easy to control or destroy.

"Did you know I was the most popular peace time Minister in history? It's true, and people will want those 'good old days' back. I'll be Magical Britain's Richard Nixon, the comeback kid!"

"Its all about power, isn't it Fudge?" Harry observed.

"Of course, with power you can have wealth, security, popularity. You can have it all."

"By any means necessary?" Harry asked.

Fudge shrugged, "why not?"

"You know Fudge, someone once told me that there is no good or evil, only power, and those too weak to use it."

"Sounds like someone after my own heart!" Fudge replied.

"Oh I don't doubt that, it was Voldemort."

Fudge just chuckled. "Not to worry mi' lad, no one's going to hurt any of you. We're just going to obliviate your memories of this little encounter and place the dementors back into their cages so that they'll be useful again and no one will be the wiser!"

"You forgot about something Mr. Fudge." Harry said with a smile. "All the would-be dictators of the 20th century have used it, and so have you."

"What's that Harry?"

"The Fourth Estate," then he looked directly at Dawlish and said in a loud clear voice "did you get that Sweetheart?"

A tiny voice seemed to come from behind Dawlish "yes love, and so did the Wizarding Wireless Service! They tell me it'll be the most famous magical broadcast in history!"

Fudge went pale, "what did you do?"

Harry smirked, "Just placed a signaling mirror in ex-auror Dawlish's cloak. He's been broadcasting to my home and out to the airwaves for the past half hour or so."

Scrimgeour stood tall and ordered, "Aurors, stand down!"

They all dropped their wands except for Fudge, who had gone purple with rage. The Ex-minister leveled his wand at Hermione and shouted "_Arvada_ . . ."

He never got to finish. Both essensentials blocked the unfinished curse with their own bodies as Harry tackled the man.

"Do you want him Kissed?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"We need to question him first, but after that, he's all yours m'dear."

"Hermione," Harry asked, "are you okay?"

"I will be Harry, there's enough conflicting emotion in this room that I have a veritable smorgasbord in here. I just need a few minutes."

He hugged her tightly and said, "Take all the time you need."

"Oh that's delicious," she moaned, returning his embrace, "pure unadulterated love, 1998, a very good vintage!"

The other essensentials glowed in approval as well.

"Merlin's Balls!" Rufus Scrimgeour bellowed, "how could this happen?"

Harry, who was still embracing a recovering Hermione, answered. "Only too easily. People tend to the path of least resistance, and if someone is willing to lead the 'sheeple' will follow."

"Sheeple?"

"Yep, when the mob mentality takes over and people can stop thinking for themselves they become like so many sheep. Sheeple.

"Which begs the question, Minister, what are you going to do about it?"

The leonid man activated his own signaling mirror, "Weasley!"

"S-sir?"

"You heard?"

"The broadcast? Yes sir! It's playing on every wireless in the ministry right now!"

"Lock down the building, shut down the floo network and ward all outgoing apparition points!"

"Already done sir."

Scrimgeour raised both eyebrows in surprise, "on who's authority?"

"That'd by mine!" Alastor Moody's voice called from somewhere behind Percy, "I also confiscated the record from the offices of Fudge and Dawlish and everyone they did business with on a daily basis."

"Good thinking Alastor, very thorough!"

"I jus' locked down the place; young Weasley here had the idea to confiscate the records."

"Let's make everyone comfortable Weasley, we're in for a long night."

"Minister?" Harry asked. "Could we go home, please? This has been very draining for Hermione."

"Can you make a portkey?"

Harry smirked and picked up a shard of glass from the floor. He touched the shard with the tip of his wand and said "Grimmauld Place, foyer, _portus!_"

"I'll take that as a yes then, go on lad, you and your lady have earned a rest. We'll talk next week, all right?"

Harry nodded and pantomimed to the essensentials to touch the portkey. The four of them vanished in a rush of wind.

The Purge, as it came to be known, came swiftly. Heads of nearly every department were sacked. Most of them, it turned out, had been Fudge appointees. Junior undersecretaries became department managers. Department heads became division heads. A merit system was put into place, with mandatory annual reviews. Cronyism in the Ministry of Magic died a painful death that night.

ooo000ooo

Author's note: The Hexagonal Office is my take on the layout of the Minister of Magic's working space. At first I thought Oval office, but then I thought of shapes normally associated with magic – and the HEXagonal office just sounded right to me.


	21. Chapter 21: Sharing

Chapter 21: Sharing

Harry and Hermione appeared in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place where they were immediately pounced upon by Myrtle and Ginny respectively. The two essentials with them were pulsing a pleasant shade of blue-white.

"Mr. Potter," Myrtle began. "Are we going to make a habit out of this?"

Harry shrugged. "God I hope not."

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"I was never in any danger."

"I don't know about that," the redhead groused, "some of those incompetents at the ministry are actually capable of producing a patronus y'know."

Hermione smiled and asked, "Harry, would you call prongs please?"

He hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Trust me."

He pointed his wand down the hallway and shouted "_Expecto_ _Patronum!_"

The golden stag appeared and then walked toward Harry, Hermione and the two essensentials. As Prongs approached the semi-corporeals Harry was taken aback by the similar nature of his patronus and the white wraiths.

"Don't you ever wonder where your patronus comes from?"

"I thought it came from me."

She shook her head, "it comes _for_ you, but it comes _from_ the same place as the essensentials."

"How do you know this?"

"Hey, I'm just the parasite here, Noir knows these things."

"So when the patroni disappear, they're really, um?"

"Going back to their own." She finished for him.

"Could this be a way for the essensentials to go home?"

Hermione looked hopeful, "maybe. We just don't know."

Harry's patronus nuzzled one of the white wraiths, who stroked the stag's neck affectionately.

"Um, Prongs?" Harry addressed his avatar, "can you take them home?"

The golden stag nodded. The two essensentials touched his flanks and the three of them faded out together.

Harry and Ginny were stunned, "are they?"

Hermione looked at the space where prongs and her kin had been. "They're home." She whispered.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

She smiled. "Oh yes, we're sure."

He felt like a lead weight had settled in his stomach, "does that mean you're leaving?"

"Eventually, but first I have to reach the others, the ones who survived."

"How long will that take?" he asked.

"Not long, but Harry, you have to understand. Essensentials are people too. Most are good and hard working and just want to be left to live in peace, but some . . ."

"Some are bad?"

"Some are bad enough to make Voldemort look like a petty thief."

Harry paled. "That bastard split his soul till there was nothing human left!"

"And a rogue essensential, a true dementor feeds on souls. Which do you think is worse? A twisted man who shreds his own soul or a twisted wraith that delights in shredding the souls of others?"

"How can we fight them?" he whispered.

"**With wraith warriors**." Hermione answered in what Harry knew to be the voice of Noir.

She continued, "**There must be at least one wraith warrior, one willing to stay behind to fight the dark ones, the dementors**."

"And if the wraith warrior falls?"

"**Another will take its place**."

"How will another know that it is needed?"

"**We will know**."

Harry, Myrtle and Ginny all looked at Hermione, imploring.

"Will you stay?" Myrtle asked.

"**For as long as I can**," she answered with a shrug. "**I am unique; I can walk in both worlds**."

"Do we know why that is?" Ginny asked.

"I have my suspicions, a hypothesis if you will."

Harry smirked, "Now I know that's Hermione!" They all shared a laugh at this.

Meacham cleared his throat, "I have a late luncheon set out and tea for Miss Granger."

They all thanked the house elf and tucked in.

After lunch Harry and Myrtle retired to the master to cuddle and catch a quick nap.

"Love?" she asked in a small voice, "is that time turner somewhere handy?"

"On the nightstand" he said with a yawn, just before drifting off to sleep.

He woke an hour later to the feeling of warm lips on his own, and on his erect member.

"Wha?" he started, pushing past his bushy haired wife to see another head of bushy brown hair bobbing up and down. He also noticed that none of them were encumbered by clothes.

The one who had been kissing him held up the medallion with the tiny hourglass at its center.

"This is for your enjoyment Mr. Potter, just lie back and relax!"

Harry smirked and lay back down.

The Myrtle kissing him was working herself into a lather with her fingers as the one felating him rubbed herself on his leg.

When Kissing!Myrtle raised her head to take a breath Harry groaned, "wand."

"You want your wand?" she asked.

He nodded. She reached over him to the night stand and handed him his holly and phoenix feather wand. He touched the tip to his tongue and whispered "_engorgio_."

Myrtle's eyes grew wide as saucers as his tongue extended five inches past his lips. Harry wagged his eyebrows and said "well?" surprisingly clearly for someone with such an outsized lingual muscle.

"Oh _hell_ yes!" she squealed as she sat on his chest. Harry felt his other Hermione look-alike align her wet entrance with his engorged member.

"Togetha' on three," he said as clearly as he could, considering his, um, handicap?

"Un, who, thee!" on three he plunged his tongue into Myrtle as her double impaled herself on him. All three groaned in ecstasy.

As Harry began reciting naughty lyrics in parseltongue the Myrtle at his face began to lose herself in the constant orgasm. As she fell back onto the 'cowgirl' riding Harry like a hobby horse, her doppelganger steadied her by holding on to both her overly aroused breasts. It wasn't long before tongue-serviced Myrtle passed out from sheer gratification.

The rider stopped pumping just long enough to help Harry lay her twin on the bed comfortably. She looked deeply into his green eyes and said, "My turn!" Then bounced on him to her heart's content.

She roared her climax to the rafters before collapsing on his chest. Harry, not quite finished at this point continued to stroke in and out slowly as his lover purred in post orgasmic bliss.

When she realized that Harry hadn't had his turn yet she rolled onto her back and wrapped her legs around his middle and demanded "fuck me Harry, pound me into this mattress! Fuck me _stupid!_"

He obliged to the best of his ability as she set his pace with her "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" cadence. Long strokes, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in over and over and over until she began to scream that she was coming again and he roared back "YES!"

As they lay there in post coital bliss he began to chuckle "fuck me _stupid_?"

She shrugged, "well, if you fuck my brains out. . ." They laughed at that and cuddled and snoozed. Harry woke up a few minutes later all alone in the king-sized bed; he assumed his wife was in the loo.

He was right, but what he didn't know was that Myrtle and Hermione were in there together, Hermione was thanking Myrtle profusely for the gift of her husband. Myrtle smirked, "we never lied to him. We just showed him the time turner and let him reach his own conclusions."

"Still, its probably better that he not know." Hermione suggested, "He would feel terrible about being unfaithful to his wife."

"Hey, it's not cheating if you're here by invitation!"

Hermione shrugged, "you know Harry."

Myrtle smiled, "and now you do too, in the biblical sense!"

They both smirked and returned to the bed, "He's all worn out" Myrtle said.

"Time for me to go," Hermione whispered, then kissed Myrtle full on the lips before slipping out the door.

On the other side of the door Hermione appeared to be talking to herself as she said in a satisfied tone, "I _knew_ it!"


	22. Chapter 22: Settling in at the New Manor

Chapter 22: Settling in at the New Manor

The next day Harry and the girls apparated to Potter-Black Manor, formerly Malfoy Manor and Black Manor before that. There was a thin layer of dust on the otherwise gleaming furniture, but nothing was broken, pilfered or vandalized.

"Lucius kept a fidelius charm on the Manor, and only grudgingly allowed visitors." Narcissa explained as she greeted her Leige lord and his ladies. "We've just been tidying up the master and some of the guest rooms."

Harry looked slightly shocked at Draco, "you've been _cleaning?_"

"No need to sound so surprised milord." He smirked (oh well, old habits die hard), "actually Mother left a spare wand in her old room and let me use it to charm a few feather dusters to re-arrange the dust."

"What happened to your wand?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Dawlish snapped it, along with two bones in my arm when I was taken into custody."

Harry smiled and evil smile, "would you like to return the favor Draco?"

The blond looked confused, "what do you mean?"

"I mean ex-auror Dawlish is now a guest of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I'm sure I can arrange for you to be the one to snap _his_ wand."

Draco's smile was beatific, "I'm going to enjoy being your liegeman, Milord Potter!"

"And we need to go to Olivander's to get you all replacement wands." Harry offered.

"My son is really quite skilled in charms." Narcissa allowed graciously.

"Speaking of which, milord, what will my duties and responsibilities be?" Draco asked deferentially.

"I have given it some thought," Harry answered, "Ginny is going to need all kinds of help to set up and then run the rehabilitation center. Can you see yourself working with the Kissed?"

"Milord Potter, I've spent the last few months licking the soiled boots of that _reptile_ Voldemort," he took a deep breath, "I would muck out the stables by hand and be grateful for it – I never had the chance to thank you properly."

Harry shrugged, "it's not necessary."

"I'm afraid it is milord," the blond insisted, "I owe you a life-debt twice over, and we Blacks always pay our debts."

"Ginny?"

"Milord?"

"Can you use Draco's help?"

"Yes, I can use all the help I can get. . ."

"But" Harry offered.

"There is some, um, _history_ between Mister Malfoy and me."

"Milord," Draco interrupted, "you are our liege, if you wish it of course we will work together, but if Miss Weasley would be uncomfortable having me work with her then I would respectfully ask that you assign me elsewhere."

Harry turned to Narcissa. "Miss Black?"

"Milord?"

"How long before the Manor is ready to receive patients?"

"We could house as many as a dozen today. In two months time we should be able to triple that number."

"What's the holdup?"

"Staff milord," she let out an exasperated sigh, "we're going to need a full time healer on the premises, and we'll need support staff, cooks and custodians and a full time administrator." She explained.

"When we're fully up and running Ginny will be the administrator," Harry looked at his ex-girlfriend, "if that's okay with you?"

"I'd rather work closely with the Kissed Harry. Let's let someone with management experience be the administrator."

Hermione spoke up for the first time since their arrival. "We could use some muggle expertise here. We could use teachers as well as doctors and nurses and nurse's aids who have experience working in convalescent homes."

"Oh that's brilliant," Ginny enthused, then appeared crestfallen, "but what about the secrecy laws?"

"Some of us have non-magical relatives, or acquaintances who know about our world. We can look there first. We can also accept CVs and conduct interviews with people who might be willing to be sworn to secrecy with a magically binding oath. Anyone who accepts we can use; those who don't? Well, we'll have an obliviator standing by."

Narcissa looked up from her appointment book, "it'll take two to three months to have Potter-Black Manor up to scratch, ready to receive patients."

Ginny looked depressed.

Harry spoke kindly to the girl, "you want to work with Ron and some of the others, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Why not bring Ron and Lavender and Lori home? You can work with them on a small scale and get some idea of what we'll need to run a proper facility."

Ginny sobbed and sprang into Harry's arms, "Oh thank you Harry! Thank you!"

He patted her back making reassuring sounds as he did so.

A large black bird, like an outsized crow flew into the living room, dropped a package and flew away without waiting for a reply.

"Gringott's uses ravens for delivering messages Harry." Narcissa explained.

Harry picked up the envelope and opened it.

"Ah, the "Peace of Mind Morning After Potion" company is offering to settle out of court for ten-thousand Galleons and a promise to cease and desist."

He walked over to the fireplace, took a small pinch of floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"Zubedia Vance, Diagon Alley!" he called into the fireplace.

His attorney's exotic face appeared in the flames, "Harry! You must have received your raven the same time I did!"

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

"Can I come through?"

"Of course."

Zubedia Vance stepped into the formal living room with all the grace of a professional dancer.

Harry groaned, "Am I the only one who falls flat on his arse every time I use the floo network?"

His ladies and liege-folk chose diplomatic silence.

Zubedia looked like the six foot canary that just ate the cat.

"Harry this is brilliant!" she enthused, "six offers from companies that have been using your name and image without your permission are all clamoring to settle!"

"So what do we do?"

"We make em' sweat!" she grinned predatorily, "take this offer from "Peace of Mind" for example. Sue them for a million galleons!"

"Can we win?"

"Oh sure, but it'll take years. And then the actual award will be less than half of that; and _then_ they'll try to tie us up in procedures and appeals. In the meantime, though, their stock will plummet! When witches and wizards find out that they've cheated _you_ they won't be able to give the stuff away, let alone sell it!"

"So we force them out of business?" Harry asked.

"Nope," she answered smugly, "broke companies can't pay settlements, we just convince them that we're going to put them out of business and then the real offers will come pouring in!"

"Ms. Vance," Harry said, taking her hand and brushing her knuckles with his lips, "I leave all this in your capable hands!"

Zubedia grinned at Myrtle and said, "Better watch this one, Mrs. Potter. He actually doesn't know how charming he is!"

They all laughed as Harry became an interesting shade of beet.

Harry and Ginny apparated to St. Mungo's promising to meet Narcissa and Draco in Diagon Alley for lunch.

As it happened they arrived just as a large number of the Champions of Hogwarts were being discharged. They all had to stop and speak with Harry, "mate, we couldn't a done it without you!"

Harry turned to see Dean Thomas, "all right there Dean?" Harry asked.

"Never better!" he grinned in return, his grin evaporated when he saw Ginny.

"Whot's _she_ doin' here?"

"She's working with the Kissed," Harry said evenly. "C'mon Dean, let it go. We all lost family in this damn war, let's let some good come out of it if we can, please?"

It was Harry's heartfelt "please" that moved Dean. He lowered his head and nodded.

"See you around Harry." The young man muttered, then left.

Harry saw tears tracking down Ginny's cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay Ginny," Harry said soothingly.

"No," she sniffed, "it's not. But in time, maybe. . ."

"Let's go see Ron."

They entered the Kissed Ward and recognized Healer Jones. The young physician came forward and pumped both their hands in greeting.

"Remarkable, truly remarkable!"

"What's that Healer?" Harry asked.

"The progress our Miss Weasley has made – it's unprecedented!"

"What do you mean Healer?" Ginny asked.

"The Kissed that you've been working with?" the healer gestured to the door behind him, "They're showing remarkable progress!"

The excited healer led them into the room.

"Gin-nee!" it was Lavender Brown, smiling and walking over to her. She was followed closely by Ron who called "Gin-gin?"

Half a dozen of the Kissed shuffled over to where Ginny stood with Lavender, all wanting to embrace her.

Healer Jones led Harry over to a corner. "The problem with dealing with the Kissed is that everyone knows they're a lost cause. The Kissed live a couple of years and then they die. This is the first time _ever_ that any of the dementor-kissed have shown any real interest in anything or anyone. I can't explain it!"

"I think I can," Harry offered, "its love, plain and simple love. It was the power that defeated Voldemort and it's the only thing that can defeat hopelessness.

"Ginny really loves Ron, and the others. She couldn't wait to get back to them today."

"The real problem dealing with the Kissed is that they have no will to live, somehow Ginny has gotten through to them."

"Well Healer Jones, it just so happens we're going to need a full time staff Healer at the Genevra Weasly Rehabilitation Center. Are you interested?"

The physician held out his hand, which Harry grasped and said "count me in."

"Don't you even want to know what the job pays?"

"Hell, I'd work with this lot for free! I've already published two monograms on the subject, and I expect to finish a full research paper by the end of the year!"

The healer snapped his fingers "Merlin, I nearly forgot! You have to see something!"

He walked quickly out of the ward an into a potion's lab, Harry trailing close behind.

"Now where did I put that? Ah! Here it is!" the healer pulled down a small cylindrical jar in which a viscous black fluid was writhing. Something about the fluid was disturbing and familiar.

"Ever seen this stuff before?" the healer asked.

"Yeah, it came out of me when Voldemort died."

"This sample came from Miss Weasley; do you know what it is?"

Harry shook his head.

"It's soul essence, the ichors of possession!"

"What are you saying Healer Jones?"

"I'm saying, that at some point Miss Weasley was possessed by Voldemort," the healer shook the jar, "and this proves it!"

"She was possessed by an avatar of Voldemort when she was eleven years old." Harry muttered, "But we thought he was gone when the avatar was destroyed."

"Nope," the healer looked shocked, "that tiny slip of a girl has had Voldemort's soul blended with hers since she was a pre-teen?" He shook his head, "it's a wonder she's not mad as a hatter!"

"Is she still?" Harry started.

"Possessed?" Jones asked. "No, that's just it; all of Voldemort's essence was trying to get back to his body when you killed him. Now that he's truly dead this stuff is just an obnoxious animated tar."

"And Ginny?"

"Dispossessed since the end of the battle." The healer confirmed.

"Does that mean?" Harry began.

"That our Miss Weasley cannot be held responsible for her actions while under the thrall of the most powerful dark lord of the 20th century!" the healer finished.

Harry's "whoop!" echoed throughout the halls of St. Mungo's. He practically dragged the healer to the next room where everything was explained to the diminutive red-head.

"I knew something was broken when Tom died," she said, "I've been at peace in a way that I haven't been since, well since before I started attending Hogwart's."

"Don't you get it Ginny?" Harry cried, "All that stuff, the boys, the stuff you did with the death eaters, Malfoy, it wasn't you!"

"Sure looked like me," Ginny said, sadly.

"But it wasn't you, it was _him_; and he's gone for good and all!"

"I need a fireplace!" Harry looked around frantically, "I need to make a call!"

"Who?"

"Rita Skeeter," he said with a wicked smile, "this is the kind of story she'd _love!_

"And once it's published the Wizengamot will acquit you of all charges, you'll be well and truly free!"

It was a very jubilant Harry that bounced into Fortescue's Ice Cream and Sandwich Parlor. As usual Mrs. Fortescue wouldn't accept Harry's money, but he got around that by insisting on tipping the waitress, and the cook and the guy who swept up after them. On the way out he decided that Florien Fortescue's would be the first business that he endorsed, gratis.

The group trooped into Ollivander's where the old man was taken aback by the sight of two Hermiones, one of whom he could not read at all, the other he recognized as Myrtle Frisbee. "Mister Potter, you have given me a day to remember." The elderly wand maker smirked.

He insisted on purchasing wands for Narcissa, Draco and Ginny. When the wands were matched to their new owners Narcissa said, "Milord, please present your wand."

Harry did and all three of his liege-folk touched their wand tips to his. They all solemnly intoned, "This wand will never be used against that of my liege lord, and may be called upon at any time for any reason. This I vow on my magic and my life; so mote it be!"

Just then Hermione gasped, "Harry, we must get to Hogsmeade!"

"What's happening there?"

"Dark ones, black wraiths are feeding!"


	23. Chapter 23: Horror in Hogsmeade

Chapter 23: Horror in HOgsmeade

"_Harry, we must get to Hogsmeade!"_

"_What's happening there?"_

"_Dark ones, black wraiths are feeding!"_

Harry went into his 'command mode.'

"Healer Jones, notify the ministry!" The young physician nodded and ran to the fireplace.

"Who here can apparate as far as Hogsmeade?"

Narcissa's hand went up, as did Hermione's and Myrtle's.

"Narcissa, make a portkey for Draco and Ginny then join us on High Street in Hogsmeade!"

She nodded and Harry and his ladies disappeared with the loud crack of a triple apparition.

They arrived on High Street just in time to see a dementor bending over the prone form of a young girl.

"Get away from her you BITCH!" Harry turned to see a white rhino patronus erupt from the end of Neville Longbottom's wand. The rhinoceros tore into the dementor who had been too intent on his victim to run away. There was an unearthly screech as the wraith was impaled, thrown down and trampled.

"Amanda!" Neville cried, "oh God, oh God, oh God!"

Harry's expression steeled as he looked down the street. Three dementors were clearly feeding on prone victims. Sucking out their souls.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Prongs, in his most powerful golden form, erupted from Harry's wand, a mongoose issued from Myrtle's. Hermione morphed into the White Wraith and chorused in the harmonic blend of her and Noir's voices. "Drive them to me, if they do not submit we will have to destroy them."

The patroni seemed to understand and they streaked off in the direction of their quarry looking for all the world like glowing ethereal border collies. In short order the dementors were hovering before Noir. One dementor humbled itself, one stayed upright, defiant, the third seemed to vacillate between the two before prostrating itself before the White Wraith.

Narcissa arrived, wand drawn, followed shortly by Ginny and Draco.

Later Hermione described what had passed between her and the three essensentials.

"**Why do you attack us, Lady of Light?"** The tallest one asked.

"**You are feeding on the innocent."**

"**We are hungry; we haven't fed since the battle!"** Cried the one who had hesitated.

"**Then commune with me and you can return to our world."**

"_**This**_** is our world. It is the only world we have ever known. And there is much food here!"** Tall one insisted.

"**You do not need to feed on the essences of the people of this world."**

"**It is the only food I have ever known, the only food I crave."**

"**Don't make us destroy you."**

"**Us? Who is us?"**

"**I and the spirit that dwells within me,"** Noir explained.

The tall dementor shrieked and dove for Harry.

"No!" Draco cried as he threw himself between Harry and the hungry wraith.

He needn't have bothered, Noir caught the dementor by its neck and spun around throwing it to Prongs who gored and trampled the shrieking wraith into a mass of dust and tatters.

A very sad Noir stretched her hands out to the kneeling wraiths, "Commune with me."

The light from the essensential communion was too bright to look at directly, once the light faded three glowing semi-corporeal beings floated over the cobblestones.

The communion complete the converted essensentials embraced Prongs and disappeared with him.

Noir had reverted to her young Hermione form. Harry and Myrtle gathered her into their arms to give her strength. Ginny followed, then Narcissa. Draco finally joined the communal embrace looking slightly uncomfortable.

The sound of several aurors apparating simultaneously broke the mood.

Harry directed the medics to look after the victims. All in all three people had been kissed, more clients for the rehabilitation center. Neville was on his knees holding a young girl in his arms.

"This is Amanda," he said between sobs, "it's her birthday today – she's twelve, I got special permission to bring her to Hogsmeade to celebrate. She's worked so hard and been a real leader to all the firsties. I wanted to reward her for all her hard work. I – I told her to stay in the Three Broomsticks, but she must have thought her _lumos_ would work against these things. By the time I got to her she was being kissed.

Hermione looked wistful. She floated over to where Neville's patronus had trampled the hapless dementor. She felt around for something in the dirt; then broke into a satisfied smile.

She carried a tiny glowing bead carefully as if it were made of the thinnest spun glass. Noir became the White Wraith and placed the tiny bead on Amanda's lips. The girl remained still and silent as the seconds seemed to stretch into hours.

"Gasp!" Amanda took a deep panting breath. "Neville?"

"Oh Mandy, Mandy, Mandy!" he cried and rocked her in his arms.

"Oh Neville!" she cried, "I was floating up and I saw you and you were so sad and I didn't want you to be sad and so I stayed and, um, Neville?"

"Yes?" he choked out.

"Breathing is good."

"Oh!" he said sheepishly and loosened his embrace but did not let go.

Harry stood grinning, and then his expression turned grim as he hailed the nearest auror. "Who's in charge here?"

"Tibbets, sir, but I think you outrank him Commander." The auror answered.

"Auror Tibbets!" Harry called.

"Yeah?" then he saw who called him and he gulped, "yes sir?"

"The firecall went out ten minutes ago, why did it take that long to respond?"

"We were answering to a dementor attack sir." He explained, "That means we need aurors who can produce a patronus and medics who have experience with dementor victims."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and asked "you mean to tell me that in the middle of a war this is the best response time we can get?"

Tibblets gulped, "we'll do better next time sir!"

Harry gathered his group together and portkeyed them all back to the manor. "Not good enough, not _nearly_ good enough!"

"What's that milord?" Draco asked.

"Response time, ten minutes! Everyone in Hogsmeade could have been kissed in ten minutes. We have to be able to respond more rapidly, get teams into place. Yeah, Rapid Action Teams! Each team should be able to handle anything that might conceivably come up!"

Harry walked away muttering to himself as Draco shook his head and said, "Look out wizarding world, Harry Potter is on a mission!"

Still mumbling to himself Harry walked into the master bath, shedding his cloak and clothing along the way. He absentmindedly waved at the shower turning on both tandem showerheads. As he stepped in he was enveloped by four arms.

"I'm starting to really love that time-turner." He said, grinning.

He had a bushy haired brunette on either side of him lathering and stroking, shampooing, rinsing and repeating.

One of the Granger look-alikes knelt before him and completely swallowed his member. Harry groaned as one girl pleased him with her talented tongue and the other embraced him from behind, soft hands kneading the muscles of his chest and torso.

He felt the familiar tingling and pulled back, helping his lady to her feet. He pulled her close eliciting a groan in stereo. Her double moved around behind her and helped support her as she brought her other leg up and around Harry's waist.

The Myrtle sandwich consisted of three loving bodies, six caressing, supporting hands and three tonsil probing deep snogging mouths. Add a dash of hyper-stimulated sex and the Myrtle "meat" in the sandwich was babbling and grunting and screaming her climax in short order. Her joy echoed off the porcelain walls of the shower and bathroom.

Myrtle in the middle looked over her shoulder and said, "Your turn" before extracting herself from Harry. The doppelganger brunette turned and bent double at the waist, placing her hands and forearms on the tile wall. The thoroughly satisfied Myrtle moved behind Harry to embrace and caress him from behind. She reached down to help guide him into her double.

Harry pushed forward and was rewarded by the sound of his wife's voice groaning in pleasure.

"_Fuuuuuuck!"_

They just stood there, Hermione bent at the waist, Harry bent over her, Myrtle wrapped around both of them caressing whatever part of them she could reach.

"You _do_ know that I love you both, don't you?" he said through the pouring water. Myrtle froze, as did Hermione.

"Um," Hermione started as she reluctantly pulled away from Harry's delicious stonker. "I don't suppose I can even try to convince you that I'm just your time-turned wife?"

As his mushroom shaped head popped out of Hermione's welcoming depths he gathered her into a tight embrace, while Myrtle embraced him from behind.

"Let's rinse off then we can talk, okay?" Harry said.

They toweled each other dry in silence then donned matching emerald green bathrobes. Harry led the girls to the bed where he sat on the edge and directed them to sit on either side of him.

He kissed each of them tenderly and took their hands in his own. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"First of all, Hermione, Myrtle isn't comfortable using the word 'fuck,' I guess she's just a bit old fashioned that way."

Hermione blushed and looked over at Myrtle who grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"It's not like I use that word in casual conversation, only when, I'm um, we're. . ."

Myrtle and I are mate-bonded, which means, among other things, that I can feel what she's feeling nearly all the time. I can almost hear her thoughts, I _can_ hear what she's thinking when we wear the vial amulets, but we don't wear them all the time – we both like a _little_ privacy every now and then.

"And you don't get that with me," Hermione said, it wasn't a question.

"No." Harry seemed to agree, "It's exactly the opposite, when we're making love I'm inside your head, yours and Noir's."

Hermione looked panic stricken, "so you know what I know?"

"Um hum," Harry agreed. "Do you want to tell her or shall I?"

"You start Harry, and I'll fill in where I need to."

"Myrtle, what do you know of reincarnation?"

Myrtle looked pensive as she accessed her encyclopedic knowledge of the Hogwart's library. "There have been a dozen confirmed cases of reincarnation in wizarding Britain in the 20th century, on the average spaced from ten to thirty years from the time of death to the rebirth. All cases have been gender specific."

Harry held up his hand. "In any of the cases were ghosts involved?"

"No," Myrtle said, "none that I ever read about."

"What do all cases of reincarnation have in common?" Hermione asked.

"Similarities," Myrtle offered, "in all cases the reincarnated people have had very similar life experiences, even going as far as dying in similar circumstances."

"So imagine a girl, an only child born of muggle parents. She comes to Hogwart's where she is scoffed and shunned. She comes into the sphere of influence of the most powerful wizard of her day, who has the power of life or death over her. That unfortunate girl is fated to meet a deadly monster in the second floor girls' bathroom."

Myrtle's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"In my first year," Hermione explained, "I was a frizzy haired, buck-toothed 'little miss know-it-all.' Everyone knew it, hell I flaunted it. But what I didn't have were any friends. On Halloween in my first year a terrible boy said some really mean things about me and I just lost it. I ran crying to the girl's bathroom on the second floor, where I cried for hours. Then, I was trapped in that bathroom and was nearly killed by a mountain troll.

"Harry came for me, he didn't have to but he's not built that way. He somehow knew that I was in danger and he came for me."

"If he hadn't, well, let's just say you might very well have had company in your bathroom."

Myrtle was stunned. "Tom Riddle came for me, but his pet basilisk was slithering around the bathroom. He didn't even try to protect me, he just let his pet kill me. Up to that point our lives were very, um, similar."

Hermione continued. "Five years ago, when I needed a safe place to brew polyjuice potion we met for the first time in your bathroom. I felt a kinship with you, almost like I knew you from somewhere. Since you've 'borrowed' my body our connection has been getting stronger. Noir has sensed it too."

"Myrtle, you _are_ Hermione, and Hermione is you. She was born thirty five years after your death, when she was born your soul, your spirit was reborn."

"Then why am I still here?" Myrtle asked in a small voice, "Shouldn't my spirit have gone to Hermione then?"

"There are no accidents, you're still here for a reason," Harry insisted. "I think it's because Hermione's spirit needed an anchor so that she wouldn't be taken by the dementor that attacked her, and Noir had to be that dementor because she was having doubts about her own role in the scheme of things."

"**It's true**," said the oddly harmonic voice of Noir, "**I would never have attacked if I hadn't been starved for months beforehand. You can't begin to understand the pain I was in**."

"And yet she gave of her own life energy to sustain Hermione's spirit until they could become fully integrated."

Harry looked at Noir and asked "why?"

"**What why?**" she evaded.

"Please, Noir, I really need to know." Harry asked gently.

Noir bowed Hermione's head, "**because I share **_**all**_** of Hermione's thoughts and feelings**."

Myrtle said simply, "and you love him too."

The symbiot nodded.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, "let Noir take her form for a moment."

Hermione morphed into the White Wraith, Harry gathered her into a gentle hug and said, "thank you for saving Hermione, thank you for keeping her safe. I would love you for that reason alone, but you are more than that. You have given Hermione your strength and have shared your _Joi de Vive_. You are family as much as any of us and I love you very much."

Noir enveloped Harry in her cloak and returned his embrace with all the solidity she could muster in her wraith form. She brought soft warm lips to Harry's and kissed him gently. She glowed brighter and brighter until she literally burst like an over inflated balloon. Harry and Myrtle were knocked backward onto the bed as if by a sudden gust of wind.

ooo000ooo

AN: I've wanted to use Ripley's line from Aliens for some time now, only to have J.K. beat me to the punch(line) in HPatDH. Oh well.


	24. Chapter 24: Family Matters

Chapter 24: Family Matters

Noir's disembodied voice echoed through the room, "**Kiss our beloved**."

"Hermione!" Harry cried, looking frantically around the room.

Myrtle was startled to see a tiny glowing bead on Harry's lower lip, and understood immediately. "Calm down Harry, Hermione is still here, she just needs a minute or so to um, _compose_ herself."

He was somewhat mollified, "are you sure?"

She looked at the glowing bead, looking for all the world like a brilliant drop of water on his lip, "oh yeah, very sure."

"Well I'll feel better when I can see her."

"Oh don't worry, you will. C'mere you!" she said and drew his lips to her own.

The tiny bead was drawn into Myrtle's body.

You could say that Myrtle became Hermione, or that Hermione got her body back, but the plain truth is that Hermione was and is Myrtle, and vice-versa. All the memories all that was and is Myrtle became Hermione's as well.

Harry sensed the change in his bondmate, if anything the bond grew stronger as he felt both Hermione and Myrtle in the kiss they shared.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Right here." She said.

"Myrtle?" he asked, tentatively.

"Present and accounted for love."

Harry and his bondmate looked around the bedroom at the fine white mist that persisted in the air.

"Noir?" Harry asked indicating the mist in the room.

"Oh, yes." His lady answered.

"Will she, um, be okay?"

"Oh yes, and she and your daughter will be hungry."

Harry was gob-smacked. "My _daughter_?" he asked, tentatively.

"Um hum," Mrs. Potter smirked, "when you poured all your love into that kiss Noir experienced the essensential equivalent of an orgasm. It was more than she could contain so she, well, there is no human word for it. Let's just say that there will be two White Wraiths in about a month."

"I was going to ask you to marry me, y'know, officially as soon as possible, will you?"

"Any time you say Mr. Potter!"

"Can we wait until Noir, um, get's herself together again?"

She looked pensive, "four weeks ought to be about right. That's around Christmas time."

Three weeks and three days later two small wraiths formed at the foot of their bed, they were expected because Hermione's memory and knowledge of them gave her some insight as to how they were progressing.

"Noir?" Harry asked.

Both essensentials nodded. The bushy brunette laughed, "oh this is brilliant! Here I am, essentially two girls in one body and here she is one girl split into two!"

Harry asked "are you hungry?"

Both white wraiths nodded eagerly.

"Come on then" he said has he and his bondmate opened their arms to commune with the fledgling essensentials.

When the bright light faded there were two fully formed White Wraiths and two glowing humans in the bed. The corporeal couple was framed by the semi-corporeal siblings. Harry and his mate were reaching past each other to gently caress their wraith companions.

The wraith spooned up against Harry spoke, her harmonic tones very soothing. "**My daughter and I shall grow apart. We will need to be named so that our experiences will be our own**."

Hermione's soft, warm hand stroked the semi-solid cheek next to Harry's. "Then we will name you Noir, because you are most like the Noir I know so well."

Harry caressed the shoulder of the other essensential. "We name you Blanche." He pronounced the name as the French would, 'blonche', "Because you are so pure."

Blanche shivered and he could swear he heard laughter in her melodic harmonic voice. "**Be careful my love, or there will be more of us!**"

Harry and his lady (ladies?) were married on the twenty-second of December, the traditional Yule. Ron was best man. He had come a long way in six weeks, functioning at the level of a three year old and getting better every day. Harry had to gently pry the shiny gold ring from Ron's hand but his ginger-haired best mate smiled when Ginny told him what a good boy he was. All the Weasley brothers were groomsmen, along with Neville Longbottom. Hermione was attended by Noir and Blanche and Ginny, along with Luna, Lavender and Lori, who giggled incessantly and adored their bridesmaid's dresses. Amanda Stevens, too old to be the flower girl and too young to be a bridesmaid was the Gift Attendant, a responsibility she accepted with grace and maturity.

The Potters honeymooned on their Caribbean Island and returned three weeks later tanned and toned and more in love than ever.

Then they got to work.

Judge Vance had described his ex-wife as a pit-bull with lip gloss and he wasn't far off the mark. When Zubedia Vance got through with the companies that had been using Harry's name and image illegally they were willing to make Harry a majority stock holder if he would just call her off. As it was Counselor Vance knew exactly how much to squeeze out of each corporation so that they were well and truly punished but not so much that they went out of business. As she once said, broke companies can't pay damages.

The barkers who had turned Godric's Hollow into a tourist trap were a different story. Guilty of willful property damage as well as criminal trespass not only were they left completely knutless each of the four perpetrators spent a year in hotel Azkaban. Harry restored the cottage that had meant so much to his parents and set wards around the gravesites so that visitation was by permission only.

Harry checked with the Department of Mysteries, sure enough there were charms in pace that allowed for the extended use of time turners that allowed the "time skippers" to avoid paradox. He used the time turner to accelerate his training program along with Hermione, Neville and Draco.

Draco had to fight an uphill battle from day one.

"Not physically acceptable." One unctuous mediwitch announced, sniffing. "The applicant is practically blind in one eye."

Harry stepped up, "he lost the use of his left eye while on a mission of vital importance to the side of light, fix the eye or change the regulation. I don't care which."

The healers balked at both suggestions. Harry presented them with Draco's Order of Merlin, Second Class, for conspicuous gallantry under fire. There was good news, better news and bad news. The good news, Draco could be fitted with a magical eye that would give him the required visual acuity, the better news; the new magical eyes were of normal size and color, looking exactly like the eyes they replaced. The bad news, Draco had to voluntarily give up his left eye and the process was excruciatingly painful to endure. The worse news, he couldn't be unconscious for the procedure.

"Do it!" Draco insisted.

When they completed officer training they set about forming the Phoenix Watch. As predicted, Harry's image on the recruiting poster had witches and wizards clamoring to enlist. The best of the best were deployed as the Phoenix Rapid Action Team, average response time fifty seconds. Suddenly everyone wanted to be a PRAT.

Some of the higher-ups objected to the acronym until Mrs. Potter publicly suggested an all female auror team, the Tactical Women's Assault Team. She insisted that Harry was man enough to handle it.

The objections stopped.

The Potter-Black Manor was officially renamed the Ginevra Weasley Center for Education and Rehabilitation. GinCER moved into full operation in the spring of the following year. The Kissed, including the Kissed of Azkaban, were literally given new lives. The average stay for any of the Kissed was between three and five years. Some were given vocational training; others went through more conventional primary and secondary educations at a magically accelerated rate. Ron was pretty much his old self again after three years. Two years later he led a completely recovered Lavender Brown down the aisle.

Ginny received honors and accolades and most importantly financial support from the wizarding world for her work with the Kissed. She was deferred to with reverence as the Angel of Campeltown and developed a following among those who saw her as a spiritual leader. She chose a life of celibacy, confiding to her closest friends that she'd already had enough carnal knowledge to last a lifetime. The Kissed referred to her as Mummy Ginny. Soon her center became the premier treatment facility for all long-term magical maladies. Gilderoy Lockhart became one of her most celebrated success stories. Humble and self effacing Gilderoy was no less the charmer. He sent back his 2004 "Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile" award with the simple note. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Neville kept a warm and platonic friendship with Amanda, and encouraged her to date boys her own age. She longed to follow him into the Auror Corps so he encouraged her to study hard so that she could apply for the officer program when she graduated.

When she was fourteen her grandmum became very ill. Grudgingly her mum took her in and Amanda got to see first hand the parade of men trooping into and out of their small two-bedroom flat. One of the "boyfriends" tried to corner her in their living room – she managed to get away and lock herself in her room as the drunken lout hammered on her door. She used her signaling mirror to call her guardian angel; Neville apparated directly into their living room. He cast a sobering charm on Amanda's would-be rapist; then calmly and without the use of magic, broke both his arms.

"Why the sobering charm?" Amanda asked.

"I wanted him to feel it." He growled.

He left Amanda's mother with one set of instructions. "Clean up your act, get a real job and be a mother to Amanda or I will put you in Azkaban and Amanda will spend the rest of her childhood in a very nice room at the Potter-Black Estate."

Three years later on the morning of her 17th birthday Amanda apparated to Neville's apartment and dragged him, kicking and screaming to bed. Okay, maybe he wasn't _exactly_ kicking and screaming, but they both made a LOT of noise that day.

Draco became Harry's shadow and fiercest bodyguard. When Harry took to the field his wife was by his side ("just you try to keep me away Mr. Potter!") and Draco had his back.

Narcissa and Sharpclaw parlayed Harry's fortune into an obscene amount of money. Whenever Harry's fortune approached the billion galleon mark he insisted that the goblins find worthy causes to invest half his fortune. Trouble was they were so good at investing that within weeks the ledgers were approaching the nine-zero's mark again. Even fully funding Ginny's hospital didn't put much of a dent in his fortune.

Draco and Ginny never lacked for company, or suitors for that matter, but neither felt the need for company outside of their own circle of family and friends. Narcissa met an investment broker who treated her like the highborn lady she was.

"Milord Potter-Black," she said very formally one afternoon.

"Cissa, it's just Harry." He sighed, leaning back in his comfortable study.

"Not today milord, I have to ask a great favor."

"Anything Cissa, you know that."

"Jeffrey wishes to, I believe the phrase is, get to know me better?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "and?"

"I am your liege woman, milord. He and I need your permission."

"Have we discussed this before?"

"It's never come up before, milord."

"How do you feel about Mister, um, Jeffrey?" he asked.

"Detleff, milord, Jeffrey Detleff." She clarified.

"Is this what you want Narcissa?"

"It _has_ been a while, Harry."

"And Jeffrey _does it_ for you?" he smirked.

Narcissa had the good graces to blush and nodded.

"If Mr. Jeffrey treats you with love and respect and if you are agreeable then you have my blessing."

"Thank you milord Harry." She said smilingly.

"Is Jeffrey here?"

"In the parlor Harry."

"Bring him in." he said with a predatory smile.

Jeffrey Detleff stood before the most powerful wizard in Britain, possibly the world and was pleased to note that he didn't shake visibly. He knew he could love Narcissa but he was afraid he wasn't good enough for her. He asked to speak with Harry in private.

"Not bloody likely," said Draco.

"We can talk Mr. Detleff, anything we say will be held in confidence."

Jeffrey had the good sense to not try and impress Harry with stories of his successes and business acumen. Rather he spoke of those things closest to his heart, how Narcissa reminded him that it was only good to make money if you were going to do some good with it.

"She's stripped me of my avarice and I am in awe of her Lord Potter-Black. I would like to try to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her."

Harry looked at Draco, who raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly.

"Mr. Detleff, may I call you Jeffrey?" when the man who was old enough to be Harry's father nodded respectfully Harry continued, "I have to admit I called you in here to impress upon you just how dangerous it would be for you to hurt my Cissa in any way."

The man gulped visibly as Harry continued. "But I think your heart's in the right place. You and Narcissa have my blessings. Make sure you always remember how rare and beautiful she is."

The gentleman practically floated out of Harry's study.

"Are _you_ okay with this Draco?"

"I think so milord, time will tell."

Six months later Jeffrey led Narcissa down the aisle, Harry gave away the bride and Draco stood as best man.

Harry had to reinforce the silencing charms around Cissa's rooms, which had been converted into the bridal suite for her wedding night.

"Enthusiastic, aren't they?" Mrs. Potter smirked.

"Ah to be young and so much in love!" Harry placed the back of his hand on his forehead and sighed theatrically.

"C'mere you!" she growled.

Harry barely got the locking and silencing charms up in time as Hermione and Myrtle and a little bit of Noir all decided to make some noise of their own.

_My Dearest Husband,_

_Today marks the fifth anniversary of the day I was reborn and found the love of my lives, or rather the loves of my lives. I love you and I love Hermione with all my heart, you are so easy to love and Hermione is, well, me. If I hadn't died in that bathroom so many years ago we wouldn't be where we are today. I didn't think it was possible to love you more but today I love you more than ever. Everything that I am can be laid at your feet. Because of the man you are I am a reborn spirit, a decorated war hero, a commissioned officer, a wife and in seven and a half months I will be the mother of your beautiful baby._

_Of all the awards and titles bestowed upon me the greatest and dearest to my heart is that I can sign my name, with all my love._

_Mrs. Myrtle Potter._

ooo000ooo

Thus endeth the tale. I have to give credit where it's due, I was outlining this story last April when I got an e-mail from Demondeathstone AKA Thomas. He suggested that I have Myrtle take over the body of someone who had been kissed, that one idea germinated and grew into the just completed story, Thanx Thomas. Special thanks to all who have supported my efforts in this tale, especially GreatWriterSarah who has taken time from her busy life to beta more than half these chapters, thank you Sarah, like your first love, you never forget your first Beta. To my most faithful reviewers, SelenePotter and jacee2u, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. To all of you who read fanfiction and most importantly, take the time to write reviews and criticisms, thank you.


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